This is the first trip in a long time that hasn't lent me any sort of grand philosophical introspection or grounding perspective on the life I am taking a break from. I usually return from the road with a renewed sense of where I stand in the grand scope of things, a deep and aching sense of the world's beauty and tragedy.
But nothing. Part of me is worried I'm growing numb, losing my idealism and with it my ability to perceive truth and beauty in my experiences. I feel (almost unnaturally) uninspired, unaffected. But nonetheless, this trip has given me some constructive working points for projects and goals. And I have an ocean of past inspiration lurking in scribbled journal entries and photos. I have so much to tap into, I don't need to maintain the constant high of epiphanies and adventures and scandals that I once thought was necessary.
What's really necessary is focus and discipline, and I'm ready to write and work. I'm ready to cozy up this autumn and really get some work done. I'm ready for more.
