Soul Resuscitation

People who speak of travel as if they are above it fail to grasp its power to revive souls that have long felt trapped - to the point that they no longer remember what freedom feels like. Sometimes, external shifts awaken something within us. To dismiss travel simply because it has become a common means of escaping responsibility is to miss its deeper significance. While that may be true for some, there are no absolutes in life - only what works for you in a given moment.

For those who dwell in their minds, sensory changes can tether them to the present. And for those who carry the spirit of a bird yet have had to ground themselves, becoming a mountain instead, travel is the alchemical act of soul resuscitation. To learn to spread one's wings again is never an easy feat.

During a recent difficult time in my life, I flew to one of the great deserts. As I climbed a towering sand dune, step by step, I felt each footfall dragged back slightly, mirroring the way life itself can feel at times - an unrelenting push against unseen forces. But I persisted. It felt like a spiritual pilgrimage, and as I ascended, my eyes welled up. Tears streamed down my face unbidden, except this time, they were not a symptom of sorrow but a cleansing - washing away the shackles I had unknowingly placed upon myself.

By the time I reached the top, the sun was setting. I stood there, misty-eyed, taking in the vastness before me. I closed my eyes for a moment, and it felt as if the wind carried away a fraction of the weight on my shoulders. My lungs expanded in a cathartic release, filling with air - like I was learning to breathe deeply for the first time. In that moment, I was simply grateful to exist, as I was - in that time and space. I think that was when I felt my soul again.

I sat down and watched the sun kiss the evening sky - and I felt my soul heal, just a little.