Living as a tourist

I just returned from my first trip to Lisbon.

I was greeted by the city with blooming jacaranda trees, which made it hard to resist not turning into a wide-eyed tourist with an overflowing camera roll of purple blurs.

My calfs are on fire (thank you, hilly Lisbon), my belly is full of a combination of bacalhau and pastéis de nata, and my heart is bursting with gratitude for having the opportunity to travel again.

As a Sagittarius, traveling is very high up on my list of joys (we're the adventurous free spirits of the zodiac after all!).

After a couple of years of collective mobility limitations, I was longing to travel somewhere I had never been to before.

I missed those experiences where everything feels fresh and vibrant.

Traveling - it makes us feel vulnerable, lost, and oh so alive.

The trance of the regular motions of our daily life lifts as we land into unknown territories... and with it we seem to give ourselves permission to try unfamiliar things, have new experiences and throw old rules out the window (of course we'll have dessert for every meal! who cares it's Tuesday, let's order a bottle of wine!).

Being in this state of discovery demands for all of our senses to be fully alert and engaged. Even getting our basic needs can require our complete concentration.

We may struggle to find the words to say thank you in a foreign language, observe with intrigue at what the locals are eating, or be betrayed by google maps making us turn left in the wrong street.

This new landscape requires us to be humble by recognising our ignorance and limitations.

It beckons us to get to know her with patience and respect. And through getting to know her we are rewarded by getting to know new parts of ourselves.

Dormant parts of us come alive through unprecedented circumstances, after all.

It’s an adventure within and without.

This made me wonder...

How can we bring this spark of aliveness into our lives?

How can we live our regular routines as the visitors that we are?

Truth is we're here but for a short while: having this human journey will surely end as we know it, sooner or later.

How can we use the certainty of the ending to make the time we’re here more precious?

How can we resist the pull to fall asleep and just get by?

I’ve arrived at the conclusion that this being a tourist is a quality of presence rather than a geographical location. It’s a willingness to meet our every moment with curious eyes that can recognise the ever-unfolding newness that is constantly being birthed in our inner and outer world.

This is my invitation to you, my fellow traveler.