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What travel means to me.


Travel to me means finding something, finding me, finding my limitless potential while going on the deepest self discovery journey possible. Almost like the practical of life, the opposite of theory because nothing makes sense, and it’s a felt sense which is embodied through experience.


I never belonged, or so it felt that way. There was always something so much bigger than me, and in my understanding that something bigger was the world.


It started with holidays, deepened when I spent a summer in Ibiza 2009, then 2011 was when it became an obsession. Each city, new country or challenge I was faced with (and anyone that’s travelled for extended periods of time will get this) small set backs were felt deeper and I understood that my reaction to adversity controlled the outcome. The outcome of my potential, whether that was missing a bus for our next stop, running out of money, not having WiFi or any signal on an island where no one spoke English and everything felt impossible, the days when we didn’t know where we would sleep, the days where we were put in uncomfortable situations with no one familiar, to the days we felt as if we were living in a different parallel of life as we knew it.


What I realised through experience, was the importance of reflecting, growing and allowing these experiences to shape me and my becoming. This is an ever evolving human experience, through all circumstances whether it be travel, motherhood or any chapter of life really. Travel taught me that becoming is an ever evolving practice and there isn’t a destination of happiness behind the next passport stamp, this journey is about you and you only.

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