At Home in the Journey

Journey: an act or instance of traveling from one place to another :

Lately I've been questioning the definition of "home".

Is home the town where I spent most of my young life growing up?

Maybe home is the roof over my head?

No. These don't seem right, because lately I haven't been able to define home.

Sometimes things we think we know change.

Last week, I wrote about how the journey is more important than the destination. I find that idea very interesting, because in the past month or so, I feel much more at home while on a journey than I do once I get to where I'm going. Something about flying and traveling makes me realize that "being in between" is okay. We don't always have to know where we're going as long as we're moving forward.

While flying from Denver to Las Vegas, I spent my time, like I usually do, gazing out of the window to the right side of my seat. With each passing moment, my attention was fixed on what was outside of my window at that very moment. There was no worrying about what I would see next, because all that mattered were the gorgeous views at that moment. Every passing second, peering from an airplane window, is like a snapshot image at high speed framing a moment in time.

Sometimes it's sunrises, sunsets, or white fluffy clouds.

At other times it's storm clouds, lightning, and rain.

No matter what, I love every second.

I took these images over Lake Mead with our trusty Canon point and shoot. These pictures were very hurried, because we were descending quickly through the storms. Lake Mead is beautiful even with rain clouds overhead.

In The Art of Travel, Alain de Botton writes:

"When feeling sad at home, I have often boarded a train or airport bus and gone to Heathrow, where, from an observation gallery in Terminal 2 or from the top floor of the Renaissance Hotel along the north runway, I have drawn comfort from the sight of the ceaseless landings and takeoffs of aircraft."

I have a feeling that Alain de Botton and I have something in common. Although I enjoyed my time watching small airplanes at Centennial Airport in Colorado. London or not, takeoffs and landings are a constant in life. The only constant in life is change.