a strong desire to travel.“a man consumed by wanderlust”.I think you either have been infected by wanderlust or not. Those that are adventure seekers are always planning their next trip, their next conquest. Those that thrive on being home look to plan their next major home improvement project or continue to scour markets for the perfect entryway bench. I have friends in both camps. I respect both sides of this coin.I live in an Artic version of Mayberry. People not only recognize my daughter’s handknit hat, but know who made it. I love this, but there is a whole world out there to explore. There are weeks in the winter when I have no desire to travel because it is so damn miserable out. In the summer though, I try to only make brief pit stops by my house. We just need to wash enough clothes to get us through to our next adventure.My heart has been irrevocably changed by travel. Has yours? My first trip to another country: Oh Canada! A young kid thrilled with new kinds of candy, eh? To my first foray into a poor country: a place where children die from diarrhea juxtaposed against a wealthy playground for the rich. There are places I’d like to visit every week and others that I can check off my list and never return to. Perspective is something that we could all use more of and travel is often the fastest way to achieve that.A well appointed home is a fine thing, too. Those homes that are so thoughtfully constructed and decorated that you just smile walking from room to room. A den that you want to sink into and a kitchen that you never want to leave? Ah, yes. Well done, good friends, those with the architectural eye and the designer’s flair, well done.For now, it’s the season of travel for me and maybe for you, too. Fall and winter will come soon enough. School schedules and real life will hem us in too quickly. Wander now and return home to wash your underwear. Enjoy it all, my friends!
I have always believed there is more good in the world than bad; I still do. I’m not advocating that you bury your head in the sand, but I would encourage you to turn off the news for a bit, put down your phone, and look around. The world needs you to pay attention to the good stuff. Where’s the whimsy, people? The things that delight you? The little touches of humanity that make you smile?
If you want your daily dose of fear, watch your 24 hour news channel. If you need some whimsy, read on.
playfully quaint or fanciful behavior or humor; a whim; a thing that is fanciful or odd.
This is my tote bag. It cracks me up every time I use it.
I have a canary yellow bike and I just found the perfect Nantucket basket for it today. I’m looking for a bumble bee decal for my bike next.
These are the cups I use at the lake. I smile whenever I see them stacked up in my cupboard. Aren’t these cups cheerful? They just shout “hello” don’t they?!
See? Wasn’t that a nice little bit of respite? You can believe the world is going to hell in a hand basket or you can look to things that inspire you and people that are trying to help.
When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”― Fred Rogers
Today, take a picture of something that delights you and share it with someone. I just did.
Keep sharing moxie.
Mother Teresa’s Anyway Poem
People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you’ve got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;
It was never between you and them anyway.
[Reportedly inscribed on the wall of Mother Teresa’s children’s home in Calcutta, and attributed to her. However, an article in the New York Times has since reported (March 8, 2002) that the original version of this poem was written by Kent M. Keith.]