I know a woman and her husband who have inspired me to be a better traveler.

The other day I was on my way into a metro station (DC’s mass transit train system) to head downtown for a Fancy Pants meeting of Great Importance…at least to the people leading said Fancy Pants meeting. As I approached the turnstile, I saw three women (most likely a grandmother, mother and adult daughter) with roller suitcases talking to the station manager. The mother turned to me and asked if I had change for a $100 bill. I politely said no, but inside my head laughed and said to myself, “Guess I look like someone who walks around with $100 in small bills. Go, me.”

This was one of the deepest underground stations, accessible only by elevator. It is also one of the creepiest stations and every time I go to that station I am reminded of those frightening and violent (and awesome) video games like the Resident Evil series. As the elevator dropped into the depths of the station, the part where all the zombies are waiting to kill or be killed, I thought about the women and I realized what a dumb ass I had been. The women obviously were looking for change because the Metro system doesn’t take $100 bills and they needed 3 tickets to one of the stations that accessed an airport or train station. Realizing my mistake, I abandoned the life-or-death hunt for zombies and rode the elevator back to the zombie-free surface. I went over to the station manager and the women, who confirmed my now brilliant detective work. The station manager and I split the costs of three tickets to the train station. RAK complete, I returned to facing my obstacle course of zombies and, even more frightening, humans who attend meetings of Great Importance.

You may have stumbled across this quote in various forms: “If you stop to be kind, you must swerve often from your path.”  I have read and heard similar in a number of places. According to the definitive source (a Google search of the inter-web), credit for this goes to Mary Webb (1881-1927), an English romantic author.  Although she had some success while still around to be there when they handed out prizes, it was within a year or two of her early death that her works became best sellers…..which seems tragically appropriate given the content of her novels…..but I digress.

Whether small or big, a sizeable number of the random acts of kindness I do require me to swerve (which is a funny word when you say it out loud. Swerve. Swerve. Swerve. Sorry, digressing again).  It is hard for me to put into words the sensation of swerving.  Walking along, happily wrapped up in my head, juggling multiple (brilliant, I am sure) streams of thoughts, then through what feels like a physical effort, everything slows waaaayyyyyyy down (insert a deep elongated bass voice), like emerging from hyperspace in some scifi film, the world becomes real, vibriant with colors, sounds, sensations. In all honesty not always pleasant, but real and a much different place then the moonscape in my head.

I am quite comfortable inside my head and spend a good deal of time there (It is after all part of what they pay me for), even when I should be somewhere else. Yes, it has its ghosts and demons, but the fear and pain they inflict is familiar, predictable, a well grooved track that is easy to stay in. Plus it can be a pretty cool place too and provides a nice playing surface as I scheme to take over the world…..for its own good of course. Being out of my head and face-to-face with events in the here-and-now is much harder (perhaps for just me?), especially when I am trying to be present for whatever comes and not assume I know what people want when they interact with me (See the three ladies above). Plus, outside of my head is where unpredictable & uncontrollable things happen. Some of these outside-my-head-happenings are beautiful, funny, and filled with joy. Some of these outside-my-head-happenings are ugly, painful to witness, and filled with sorrow. And yet all these outside-my-head-happenings are “real” and there is something important about that, even for the ugly, painful, sorrowful happenings.

Ah! I have a metaphor for us to try. In honor of the three women at the Metro station. Getting out of our heads is sort of like being a traveler (Work with me here).  The best travelers I know see everything that happens on the trip as seeds for a great story down the road, and let’s face it the best travel stories are ones that include things like; “after sitting on the tarmac for an hour in a storm with the toilet backed up, the priest sitting next to me, who had had a couple drinks by then, started to teach me how to swear in Latin”; Not “Oh the flight was fine. They ran low on snack mix, but otherwise it was a good trip.”

Of course the most amazing travelers I have every known have been my dogs. God, I wish I could truly embrace travel as they do (and I am a pretty good traveler, if I do say so). I think pretty much all my dogs have been good travelers, although two especially come to mind. First, Tewa, a dog Haley’s mother and I had many years ago. Tewa was a small to medium sized mutt who was rescued from the side of the road after being hit by a car, who walked with a pronounced limp from a shattered elbow that never healed. My God, that dog LOVED to go on car rides. She would jump into the car (broken elbow and all), ride for 4 hours, be delighted to greet whomever we were traveling to visit, and then jump back in the car for another ride while we were trying to get the bags out of the car. The second is my dog, Elly. Elly LOVES to go for a ride and embraces every trip with a fully open heart, even though she never knows where we are going (Someplace fun with dog treats or the V-E-T) or for how long (5 minutes or 8 hours). She doesn’t care. She just wants to go for the ride. What makes this especially inspiring is that Elly is a shy dog who is most definitely NOT a fan of new and unpredictable situations. And yet, she travels with the most amazing attitude of being in the moment with no concern of what monsters we may face at the end of the journey. I wish….I wish I could do that.

And here is Elly. Almost at the end of her journey. She sits a few feet away from me (where she can keep an eye on me and make sure I stay out of trouble), basking by the fire, occasionally coming over to lay so she can touch me. She has only a couple of days left. Her cancer symptoms have reached a point where I have to make a decision. That is not true. I have made a decision. I just am not ready to say it out loud, although I soon will have to. And Elly will “go for that ride” as she always has, even though neither of us know where it goes. I wish….I wish I could be like that, but I don’t believe I will ever be that good a traveler.