I’m back! February was a bit rough in my household as both my daughter and I caught a respiratory virus. Between recovering from that and the business picking up at the tattoo studio, I haven’t had a chance to focus on writing here.
Where were we? Ah yes, the next destination after my time in a Buddhist sangha. Before moving on, I want to take a moment to remember Lama Ponya, who led our group and has recently passed away. Though he had long since hung up his red robes to become a minister, he was a beautiful human being, full of compassion for humanity. He was a shining light for many and will be deeply missed.
The next destination led to many destinations. My husband and I began looking outward instead of inward, and we took to traveling abroad. The world is vast, and while we saw quite a bit, we are nowhere near having explored it all; that was never our goal. In Europe, we visited Ireland, the Netherlands, Spain, Italy, France, Germany, and the Czech Republic. In Africa, we spent three weeks in Morocco. In Asia, we traveled to Nepal, Mongolia, Thailand, Myanmar, and Cambodia. Lastly, we explored Guatemala, Belize, Jamaica, and the Dominican Republic.
It would be impossible for me to describe every unique experience in each country without turning this into a novel, and I’m not sharing this as a travel guide. So, what is it all about? Why venture so far away and immerse ourselves in places where, at times, we stood out like sore thumbs? Sometimes, it was dirty and uncomfortable, with illness thrown into the mix. We genuinely wanted to see the beauty of the world, but shedding fear and assumptions was essential to that journey. Some people we knew believed that the United States holds all the beauty and culture one needs to appreciate the world. For us, it felt deeper; it was about seeking to understand the meaning of life.
I was only 10 when the reality of death hit me. I can remember exactly where I was—on a school playground. I don’t recall anyone saying anything to trigger this thought; it just dawned on me with chilling fear that someday I would have to die. That revelation changed me. It was the day my faith in God faded, and I began to question everything. My interest in other cultural beliefs ignited at that age, with the library serving as my gateway to those parts of the world.
There’s something unique about stepping out of one’s comfort zone. It can either boost your confidence, or you may retreat, vowing never to leave it again. I’ve always felt there are two types of travelers: those who plan their travels around comfort—like going on a cruise—and those who simply buy a plane ticket, grab a guidebook, and go. We were the latter.
When I first stepped into a foreign city that felt unorganized and chaotic, my initial emotions were fear and panic. I’m talking about places that are far less westernized, with language and cultural differences that can be overwhelming. It’s crowded, and you can’t understand anyone or read the street signs. It’s often dirty, sometimes smelly, and the traffic is loud and abrasive. It always felt surreal to be in the calm of the airport while clearing customs, as that space still felt like home. But then you step outside, into a taxi, and are suddenly immersed in it all, needing to figure everything out for yourself.
It’s empowering to break out of your sheltered world. You quickly realize that behind the curious gazes and language barriers, strangers are incredibly kind and willing to help you find your way. After a few trips like that, I stopped worrying, and I grew to love returning to that tumultuous atmosphere.
The kindness of strangers and the natural desire to connect often seem lacking in more westernized countries. I haven’t traveled like this since 2013, and I wonder if smartphones and social media have affected these connections. When you remove yourself from those devices, you can better experience empathy. At the time of our travels, social media existed, but not to the extent it does now, and people were more focused on network news to influence their perceptions. Even today, we are taught that the world is dangerous and meant to be feared. But traveling like we did opened our eyes to the reality that people are just people, much like us. It’s easier to say than to truly believe, but life is fundamentally simple. There’s great beauty in simplicity, yet we are often taught to look down on it and to push ourselves to be something more grandiose.
I’m not saying life is simple because the people we met were simple. I’m describing the simplicity that comes from removing yourself from the familiar and living in the moment. We truly lived in the moment, allowing each country to guide us with minimal preparation. If we met a stranger who invited us into their home for tea, we accepted. If a car full of French tourists offered to drive us to the desert, we hopped in. If a Mongolian nomad put us on a horse and took us to his grandparents' ger/yurt to drink fermented mare's milk, that’s exactly what we did.
My heart opened to the world, and I realized that life doesn’t need to have any inherent meaning at all. It simply is.
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Image below was taken in Nepal 2001 while crossing a suspending foot bridge over the Kali Gandaki River
