Today’s post was written by a good friend of mine, Sandy Smith. You can read her blog at www.sandydid .com
I’m not out to tell anyone waking up in the morning should be fun. I read somewhere years ago that an alarm clock puts more pressure on your heart than being held at gunpoint. I feel like that scene in Clueless where Cher gets stuck in the valley and doesn’t want to comply with the robber by getting on the ground because he doesn’t understand that her dress is an Alia. That’s me every morning. “I’m not meant to be here. You don’t understand. I’m a traveller. A really awesome chaser of adventure” But yet I pick myself up and head to a job that’s… a job. So why do I do it? Why does seemingly everyone?
I think part of the problem is that I’ve woken up differently. When I was eighteen I went on my first long solo trip which included a few days sailing around Greece. Everyone wanted to sleep in the boat cabin. It was cramped and smelled like things I didn’t understand yet so I opted to sleep outside. I remember the stars puncturing the black sky, the sounds of the people still at the beach laughing and clinking glasses of ouzo as I gave in to sleep. I remember waking up to the bluest sky and the most turquoise ocean. The sound that was even quieter than silence.
I remember when I was working in Italy taking the night train to my job placement in the south. The trains rocking lulling me to one of the most relaxed states I’ve ever been in. I was fascinated when I woke up and saw that pitch black had turned into emerald sky and speeding through cities just starting to wake up.
I remember waking up with a sense of wonder.
I went on that first trip hoping to get the wanderlust out of my system but all it did was feed the travel beast inside me. One day I’ll get back to waking up and being excited, but tonight… tonight I’ll set my alarm and hope something exciting might happen tomorrow.