Grappling

I've been mulling over what it is, exactly that drives me to keep traveling. I love it, that much is certain. But what is it that I love?

Is it the long, sleepless, dehydrating, cramped hours on planes, buses, trains and in cars?

How about the roll of the dice, hoping that the next place I stay will have a comfortable, clean bed and hot water for a shower?

Maybe the cases of the pharoah and sultan's revenge? (and just what are those guys so angry about in the first place, anyway?)

How about the endless pleasure of the company of a companion called jetlag.

Perhaps the resulting syndrome, upon arriving at home, of an empty checking account.

Or

The excitement of getting on that plane, never knowing who I'll meet or what they will inspire.

The possibility of sleeping in a new country and seeing things I never dreamt possible.

Tasting new and exotic foods.

Wandering ancient streets and discovering a piece of ancient ingenuity still in use today.

Perhaps it's just the possibilty of possibility.

I've been told that I am a grappler. I grapple around at everything around me for explanation until I've got enough reason to make a decision. I think that's pretty spot on.

For me the thrill is the struggle. It's the possibility and the work and the unknown. It's the act of discovery and the moment of reward. And then I need to move on, start something new and put some new design into motion for the future. That is what I thrive on. Forward motion.