I am very fortunate to be able to take extended journeys on a regular basis.  For each of the past five years, I have spent six months of my life sleeping in beds away from my home.  In an ironic twist, I now feel that being at home is more of a vacation than being outside of my comfort zones in the strange corners of the world.  I am always thrilled when the plane takes off and equally excited when wheels-down means I am home in Boise.  A deep connection to the current moment.

My current journey to Nosara Costa Rica ends on Friday.  I never leave with expectations because that leads to judgement.  At the same time, I usually have a few ideas of things to do in the back of my mind.  When I left on April 27, I included Easy Spanish-Step by Step as one of my books to study on this trip.  My brother encouraged me to try deep sea fishing, so I made a mental note to visit the neighboring community of Garza to find a boat captain.

These trips are a great reminder of the precious yet limited amount of time that we have on this planet.  When I took my first of a million steps on the 500-mile Camino de Santiago, the end seemed impossible.  In grade school, the idea of having a whole summer off seemed like an eternity.  Today, those twelve Saturdays disintegrate without notice.  Each one of my trips is a great reminder that time is the ultimate nonrenewable resource.

I was in a yoga class the other day in a common inverted position called headstand.  I observed my upside down self in the mirror across the room and was amazed to see that my dad’s muscle flab had invaded my chest.   His skin now resides on my calves and resembles the wrinkled part of a bendable straw.  90 years is 32,000 nights.  20,000 are in my rear view mirror.

On this trip, I never sat in a boat with a line in the water.  Twelve of fifteen chapters in my Spanish book remain untouched.

Travel always gives me a fresh perspective to reflect on the long game.