A telegram to Little Me

I acquired a magical souvenir; it was a realisation. By taking an impulsive trip to Thailand, I awarded myself the chance to have it. You are our own gift shop. You choose the opening times, you choose the stock. They are the very nature of wisdom, realisations. One could say we collect them and form a magnificent portfolio entitled Experience. And that's why we do the majority of things we do. But travelling is the act most generous in the offering of experience, the gift shop with the best stock. We go on the hunt for experiences, daring ourselves to be stimulated in new ways, by new flavours. To sweat, swim or shiver in the waters of new challenges. To hear new sounds, learn novel outlooks, and relish as hinges creak with unknown doors opening in our hearts and minds. This realisation and the flourishing effect it had upon me made Thailand my best trip yet. All this realisation consisted of was merely a stripped back epiphany of why we do these things. See new places, take new risks, seek refreshing distractions from all that we're tired of being familiar with.

Because it makes us feel good. It's that simple.

On a hot, rattling train back to Thailand's south (where I was living as a TEFL teacher), I exhaled a Marlborough Gold on the carriage steps and realised, profoundly yet simply, why I had sold my car, donated my belongings, left my job and said goodbye to safety, friends and secure employment to move abroad; to feel good. To feel like the me I had laughed, panicked, cried and ventured myself to being. Gaining scars and scratches along the way, I was nowhere near complete. I hungered for a feeling of golden glitter in my blood. I sat on the train steps, warm wind chasing the carriage, palm trees, stars and mountains sliding along, barely visible through uncontaminated night. I realised how good I felt. I thought about the blonde boy I had been at primary school.

Sat, eyes closed, in a plastic Wendy House in the corner of my classroom, mind anchored in thought; Who will I become? My little mind asked the future. What will I look like? Will the words far away still be scary? Will I be good enough? Will I get things right? Will I deserve good things? That boy was contacting a man who hadn't happened yet. Back in the present, 21 years on from the Wendy House, the man listened. I listened. I smiled and sent an internal telegram back to him, across those dark, lush mountains, over continents and meridians. You will not be disappointed. I have made you so proud, Little Me. You will do more than you can believe. Have courage and keep being yourself.

I realised on that train why I yearned for adventures. Because they give me more than just excitement, sun and memories. They give me freedom to think, to realise, accept, aspire and be grateful. I take all that I am with me. Like a mindfulness colouring book, my identity is an outline forming a picture but awaiting colour. I allow myself to be vulnerable, lost and naive. I muddle valiantly in the mist of culture shock, churning milk to cream, sculpting a compass that will lead me to acceptance and triumph. Don't we all? Sometimes, ourselves are the most difficult person to trust. And that's OK. Be scared and tell yourself; I'll deal with it - by then, trust will have come. Beyond our comfort zones is where our gift shops await with souvenirs of magic.

Travel. You will find your favourite thoughts.