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When you return from any long trek, others will ask about the trip. Eagerly, you start telling, only to realize that most of the time, all they want to hear is, "It was great." They won't understand what it's like to crouch on a mountaintop in the middle of a lightning storm, pedal down a mountain at 50 miles an hour, bike 125 miles in a day, paddle against the current, or find warm, dry shelter at the end of a long day. They will not understand the deep kinship you found with strangers whose names you never even learned, won't understand that it was ok to go for a week without a shower, won't know the bone-deep hunger you felt and the feeling that every cell in your body was rejoicing when you finally got to eat.
This will be impossible for you. You are not the same person. You will not fit easily into the same world you left: that's why you had to go in the first place, because it was not your home. You can't spend months out there journeying, looking for something different, and then come home to the same thing that drove you out on the road in the first place. Think about what you learned and how you changed on your trip, and look for ways to shape a new life that fits the new, expanded you. This may not be easy, but as you learned on the trip, you can make it through the hard times. On returning, many journeyers feel compelled to tell their stories, but make sure you find a receptive audience. Some people will never understand what you have gone through. They are generally the same people who, before your trip, asked "Why on earth would you want to do that?" and who, you knew, would never understand; in fact, the more you explained and described the trip, the more closed to it they became. Learn to recognize these people so that you're not disappointed when they aren't interested in your trip when you return. Go To Page: 1 2 |
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