Freedom

So… freedom. I’ve been thinking about this one a lot in the last few days as I’ve been getting ready for this trip to Italy. Primarily, I think, because I feel so FREE when I travel. But why is that? And what do I even mean by that?

So I took a little poll… I texted a bunch of my brilliant friends (it helps, when writing, to be friends with people far smarter than oneself), and asked… what is freedom? As you might imagine, answers all over the map:

Living your life at your own will.

Financial freedom: being able to spend money without that terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The freedom not all of us have: the freedom from discrimination for being a person of color, a woman, or an LGBTQ+ individual.

Freedom to speak our truths, live our truths, unapologetically and without constraint, be it self-imposed or otherwise.

The ability to choose our paths, change our minds, and act.

Always having the the opportunity and ability to make choices.

Being able to do what you want to do when you want to do it – being authentic.

The ability to love oneself and others.

The ability to be/express/share our truths, who we are. No apologies or watering down needed.

Living from a place that honors our authentic selves without any internal or external blockages.

The space to let our souls soar.

Wow, that last one, eh? Let’s sit with that. (thank you, MA 😘)

I’ve had conversations with fellow travelers before about this conundrum of why traveling feels so free, whether you are alone or with others doesn’t seem to matter… and part of it for sure has to do with being free from the lives we’ve created at home. Here I sit in the Newark airport, waiting to board a flight to Rome, with a glass of wine and my iPad, and I’m literally responsible for nothing else but getting on that flight. Someone else is taking care of my dog, I checked in with my family before I left, I watered my plants, set an OOO message on my work email… So is that it? The freedom from our everyday lives? Maybe. But that can’t be the whole story. That leaves out a lot of soul soaring.

I’ll add my definition here to the respondents of my poll: I think freedom has to do with resiliency, as hinted at in my opening quote. Is it possible that the 17 year old friend of my friend’s daughter that I’m meeting in an hour to help escort her to Italy (we’re on the same flight and she’s alone so… don’t be shocked, people, but I’m the adult making sure she gets to the villa in Tuscany) doesn’t feel the same freedom that I feel? I suspect she doesn’t. First, she’s bravely launching into the TOTAL unknown, having never traveled to Europe before. Second, she’s not leaving behind a list of obligations that your average middle aged professional leaves behind when they travel. Third, she’s 17, so hopefully she hasn’t experienced quite the shit that life throws at us that requires our resiliency.

So maybe freedom is, among other things, this: bring it, life. I can take it. I’ll be me, authentically. I’ll make my choices, I’ll choose my path, I’ll love myself, express myself, speak my truth, no apologies. And if I want to have three glasses of wine in the Newark airport waiting for my flight to Rome, I will. 😊

More later, on this and so much more, my traveling friends…

In love and adventure,

Traveling Girl