January 31, 2009
It has dawned on me that I actually travel a fair amount. Much more than I anticipated when I moved up to this floating paradise. But despite how often I seem to fling myself off of this island (voluntarily, so far: I have not been permanently voted off yet), it is truly the place I most love to be. In short order, it has become home, in the most profound of ways.
I type this from sunny Los Angeles, where I’ve just landed to do fun music-related things that you can read about on my website. Among today’s emails was one from a friend in which he asked, “do you think the fact that you travel often makes you appreciate your home environment even more?”.
Yes, because I have yet to travel to a place that I find more alluring than the place I call home. In contrast to everywhere else my body lands, I appreciate this set of coordinates the most.
And no, because even if I never, ever left this island, I believe I would appreciate it every bit as much as I do sitting here, far from it.
Above: three very favorite views from home: South Beach after a storm, False Bay in dense fog, and a magical, Gilligan’s Island type spot on Turn Island right across from my house, to which I have paddled several times and have promised myself that I will camp there. And I will. The shortest trip of the year, yards from my driveway that’s nestled in the woods on the left side of the photo, will probably be the one I appreciate the most. Ahhhhhh.