The stones never spoke, and I was crushed.
I had expected to arrive at the place, where the ancient spirits would instantly recognize my unique gifts and share their secret life-transforming knowledge. I would engage in meaningful conversations with the people I encountered who would immediately invite me into their homes and become lifelong friends.
None of these happened, and the disappointment was followed by feelings of unworthiness. But the longings remained.
Occasionally through the years, there would be brief glimpses through the veil. In recent years, I began to capture raw images, thoughts, and feelings in my visual travel journals. I discovered how this practice deepened my experiences, and sharpened my observations as I started to connect many barely discernible threads of my own story.
My journals are a collection of colorful pages with words and images safely contained within the covers of a book. Sketches and notes dashed off while sheltering under an umbrella. Photos, ephemera and torn pieces of discarded trash glued onto random pages. Momentary flashes of great insight, captured in a poem, or scribbled after an overheard conversation. Memories of gifts exchanged with strangers along the way. Songs and melodies. Knowing glances of recognition from others.
Much of what I know about life, I learned along the road. Perhaps these pages will help others find ways to capture the magical moments, memories, and discoveries of their own life journey.
— with love for the journey