Tourists

“We run a risk of staleness if we close ourselves off to fresh experience. Each day must remain an exploratory expedition. We must remain tourists on our home terrain.” Julia Cameron

When I lived in New Orleans, friends from near and far would come to visit. With wide eyes they would walk the streets and take in everyone and everything they saw. They listened to jazz as if they’d never heard it before and ate as if each meal was their first. It was fun to watch such tourists suck the marrow out of every moment of their visit. I was reminded of when I first arrived and felt the same way. Over time, however, I grew to take the city for granted. 

The same has been true of many chapters in my life. I enter them with wide eyes and fervent enthusiasm, but, in time, begin to take them for granted. Whether it’s a job, a friend, or a shiny new possession, the same thing happens. My eyes grow dim, my heart becomes complacent, and my soul gets dusty.

Rather than beat myself up over a human tendency I seem to have perfected, I can use my awareness to “awake my soul [and] stretch every nerve,” as the hymn suggests. In other words, I can wake up and become a tourist again. I can open my eyes and see my life as the temporary gift it is. I can perform a job as if I’ve never done it before, look at someone as if we’ve just met, and hold a possession in my hand as if it has just been given to me. 

In 12-step recovery circles, they remind me I’m not a human being having a spiritual experience, I’m a spiritual being having a human experience . . .  and my time is limited. I’m a tourist, after all. I need to make the most of each day of my visit.

“Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?” 

Mary Oliver

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Also, Spiritual Java, a 365-day meditation book, was published in December. It’s available through Amazon.