getting into the rhythm of travel

I'm getting ready to move my few possessions into a storage unit. I think this part of vagabonding is always a little odd for me--packing up my things. I'm a person that likes homes. I love spending the mornings barefoot in the kitchen, starting coffee on the stove and crawling back into bed with the snoring beast-dog. I'll be sad to put my record player away and hand my plants to caring hands for the summer. There are good things on the horizon and I'm terribly excited to travel, but it always comes with trade-offs. 

Once I start travelling, I move into the rhythm of being on the road. The car is organized, there's always climbing equipment, a camera and coffee cups on hand. Veda curls up in the passenger seat, and my folded maps are tucked into the back of the seat. Up until last fall, I didn't believe in using GPS to get somewhere. I like having to sit and read the maps, scattered with blue and red highway and interstate veins. 

I followed some of those veins down to Idaho for a couple days to see a friend of mine that creates amazing art. It's always so nice to feel at home when you arrive somewhere that's not yours. We talked about how the creative world is so competitive and how artists should encourage each other, and let go of the feeling of possession and competition. We talked about how there are two ways to live and act: with love or without love. And we tapped our boots to the deep voice of the iconic country singer, Don Williams. Well into his 70's, his voice sounds matched to his records, and it took me back to childhood, hearing my parents talk about how they danced to his songs at their wedding. It was a lovely time, tucked into the rolling Idaho hills, and I can't wait to go back.