Author: Traveling Marketer

Invisible

Sometimes I wonder if during those moments when the world is a blur, black and white or even invisible — if the reverse is true. I wonder if it were the same, if during those moments I could not see the world, if I too, disappear from it. Written on a migraine day, February 20, 2013. Photo taken on a day when the Grand Canyon was hiding behind a cloudy day in 2016.

Walls

Lest we forget that walls, by their very definition, divide, separate, form barriers — should we have to reexamine what these truly mean, not in the surface, we might very well find that it’s not what we want for humanity. In the words of Winston Churchill, “those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” Pictured: a section of the Berlin Wall in Newseum, Washington DC.  Unlike most museums I’ve visited, Newseum made me an emotional mess. The Pulitzer section was a reminder that every generation had their share of disasters and moments that define them, whether it be times of unimaginable sorrow or unmatched glee — the human condition showcased in a timeline of unforgettable images. Times that are forever etched in history, and our collective hearts and psyche, vividly displayed in headlines, pictures and made even more real by interviews of those who lived them. The 9/11 wing must have been the hardest to peruse, with a piece of the building at the center of the space, a very real …

When Ice Meets Art

Many a time I’ve come across larger than life sights in my travels — ones that cannot be given justice by words, pictures, nor moving images. You have to be there to fully live the experience. ICE! Christmas Around the World at Baltimore’s Marriott Gaylord Resort (I am still catching up on posting 2016 travels) was one of these. The ice sculptures, colorful ones and clear ones, towered over those who came to see them. Meticulously designed and curved, each sculpture was a work of art. Had I only seen them in pictures, I would not have known they were made of ice. My fiancé and I went with our friends, who had their kids with us, making the trip even more fun. We were all given blue parkas to wear over our winter coats, as the temperature inside the venue was definitely below freezing. It was so cold, the 30 degree outside felt like summer in comparison. The sculptures were a representation of Christmas celebrations around the globe. Some of the displays that were …

Metaphor

If there’s ever a clichéd metaphor for life, it must be this. That no matter how gloomy, cold or dark a day may seem, the sun is there, a constant presence, waiting for its time to shine. For there is this thing called not-quite-yet — that something ever burning, so very bright, awaits its turn in this grand design of an awe-inspiring universe. If there’s ever a clichéd metaphor for life, it must be this. But we all need a reminder sometimes. Photo taken during a winter walk in Wawayanda State Park, NJ. It’s definitely worth a visit if you’re in the area and would like a simple walk, with its hiking trails even including 20 miles of the Appalachian Trail. 

Yes to Today

The moment you think you know everything is the moment you stop living; the moment you stop learning is that moment you’ve stopped being. It’s a world of infinite possibilities and endless chances for doing, creating, experiencing, gaining, giving, loving. It took me a while to cease being closed up to these very possibilities — there’s fear and comfort and insecurities — that are all too familiar companions, too attractive to abandon for the unknown. Even then, their call is louder sometimes, but I try. For what is the alternative, but to stay safe, unharmed but not living. The past year was certainly a year full of such moments, days presented with the choice of going for it, or staying cocooned in the safety of the not-for-mes, not-right-nows, and maybe-next-times. I could only wish this year would be this and much more, and the ones after, ever more open to chances to say yes. To the moment, that which may not come again; to today, our now, the only one we’re certain of; to the …

Solace

The weary finds solace in the dead of night, where, in the stillness, hearing only one’s own heart, comes absolution: that no matter how beaten, tired and bruised, it beats —  slowly, quietly, but loud enough for even a frantic mind to hear — and fights to see another dawn. Text from my writings, 2010. Picture from our trip to PA, July 2016

For Auld Lang Syne

For auld lang syne — for old times’ sake, we sing just as each New Year strikes. For old times’ sake, we sing, looking back on people, places and times spent together as we start another chapter. As I get older the more I realize the value of true, tested and old friendships. Ones where not only have you opened yourself up to reveal your own personal history at its beginning, but when you look back you’ll find this history is now a shared one, and has been written with your friends playing their own big parts. My fiancé and I ended and started 2017 with some of my oldest friends, and are now his as well. As I stood there looking up at the fireworks with him to my left and our friends to my right, the music rang true. ( Also knowing that the first day of the year will be spent celebrating a reunion with a high school classmate I haven’t seen in 20 years.) For auld lang syne, and for all …