Traveling can mean a variety of things based on your upbringing.
Some travel for research, business, visiting relatives, vacation, sports, or mission trips. Some travel because they need a new home, need a new start and a new perspective. Some travel because they want to get away, or find something they lost.
And some, like me, travel because my mind deserves to wander farther than my backyard.
I took my first trip before I was alive for one year. My parents, avid business travelers, raised me to never fear the horrific airport lines, the uncomfortable seats, or the impatient mid-flight boredom. You can’t get to where you want to go if you settle, and this mantra has spurred me to enjoy even the headache-provoking difficulty of traveling.
When it comes to deciding where to travel, there are few factors that propel or deter me. The point of travel is to experience the unknown. Sunshine and warmth are a necessity at this point in my life, especially as my seasonal affective disorder begins to rear it’s ugly head.
But other that… I try to remember that happiness is not a destination.
The fifth lesson that I’ve learned is that changing your address will not change your attitude. The contentment you seek comes from the outlook, not the view. Traveling isn’t about where you end up, it’s about how you got there. And if that means baggage claims and passport lines and uncomfortably restless flights, then so be it.
The beach, the desert, the lake, the skyscrapers, the grasslands may be the change of scenery you need, but until you take off your cynical shades, you will remain in the same mindset as the place you begged to escape from.
You aren’t guaranteed the satisfaction you want just because you’re in a new location. Travel for the journey, not the destination.