Running From or Running To? It's a Matter of Perspective

So what am I running to?

Last July I separated from my wife of three years. We spent almost everyday together for six years, many of those traveling in Europe, Russia, Asia, and Australia. I felt all the cliches you could think of: the rug was pulled from under my feet; my world was turned upside down; hung out to dry. I traveled in Eastern Canada, settling in Halifax for a month. Maybe I was running from everything.

Then I made the decision to move to Nelson, British Columbia, a place that, from all accounts I’d heard, was where I needed to be at this time in my life. Over the past two months I’ve come to realize that this is what I was running to. A place of healing.

A small town full of energy and spirit. Full of community. I’ve never felt so at home before. I used to think Vancouver, where I spent the first 30 years of my life, would always be home. But after returning there a couple of times this year, I quickly realized that it isn’t any longer.

I don’t know if it’s my openness or the community’s, but I’ve found it extremely easy to plug myself into it. To make new friends. I’m making connections so obscure and so seemingly random that I really do think that the universe is conspiring. For what, I have no idea.

So what are your plans after Nelson?

I’ve heard this one countless times recently. I never have an answer. I don’t know. There is a certain amount of guilt that comes along with that, like I’m supposed to know. Like I should have plans. I’m learning to shake that guilt. Since moving here I’ve started to feel, energetically, that pieces are arranging themselves to fit. It’s interesting to just watch everything unfold, to make myself vulnerable to whatever happens.

It’s the first time I’ve truly let myself go along with the flow of life. Just being open to it. Following each connection to other connections, or to them coming to a close, then moving on. After Nelson? Who knows. Maybe there is no after Nelson.

On taking over editorship of BNT

Speaking of pieces arranging themselves to fit, my replacement of Christine Garvin as editor of BNT couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. Or be more apt to complete the cycle, seeing as I became a Matadorian in the first place because of this site. As my outer journeys shift to inner journeys, I feel like I’ve come home again.

So that’s where I am right now. I thought it important to share that with you so you know where I’m coming from. One thing I’ve come to understand in the last little while is that when you open yourself up, you invite others to do the same. And I want to invite readers of and contributors to BNT to open themselves up, to feel vulnerable, to know that it’s OK to not have answers. The important thing is that we keep asking questions.

Seeking contributors

I am on the lookout for contributors to BNT. I am looking for narrative travel stories that explore personal issues, that turn inward and expose internal struggle. How your travel experiences have caused you to feel and address something you may not have known was in you. And if a realization occurred.

A recently published article that I thought did this particularly well is Lessons From the One Square Inch of Silence.

I’m also looking for topical articles on things like religion, spirituality, meditation, yoga, culture, happiness, and so on. Example: 10 Meditation Techniques for Travelers.

Before you send anything through, please read David Miller’s excellent post about Travel Writing at Ground Level. Then read our contributor guidelines and submit your draft.

You are our readers. If there is anything you want to see in particular in this space, drop me an email at carlo [at] matadornetwork [dot] com. I would love to hear from you!