Between the Pages

Thursday, January 28, 2010

There is an intimacy to travel. Sharing meals together. Sleeping in the same space, sometimes even in the same bed. Conversing about the cosmos. Allowing for spans of silence. Preparations leading up to. Debacles along the way. Lingering memories after. For a brief duration the worlds of two, three, or more collide into an organized circadian rhythm.

I've had the privilege of traveling both with a hurried itinerary and a hammock agenda. They are different, and while I know better than to elucidate the difference, I find it reassuring to know, indeed write, that a piece of myself has been restored. Rescued from the barnacles of reality that swiftly tend to creep onto my outer shell.

Upon returning from my most recent travels I was delighted by the coincidence of finding a package awaiting my return. A book no less. (Is there any other type of gift?) My madre had sent me Gift from the Sea. I swallowed it in one night. However its luminance has lingered. It's one of those rare reads that easily merits a spot on the annual to-read shelf. Perhaps it was the combination of fresh sea breeze and having just finished Committed; or it was just the timing of the description I aspire towards. Either way, the part that resonated with me most was a reference to Yeats, who once said that the supreme experience of life was "to share profound thought and then to touch."

Yes, Mr. Yeats, I think I get that.


  1. Thanks for the shout out. This is a beautiful post.

  2. I love Gift from the Sea! Glad you enjoyed it.


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