I want a life measured
in first steps on foreign soils
and deep breaths
in brand new seas
I want a life measured
in Welcome Signs,
each stamped
with a different name,
borders marked with metal and paint.
Show me the streets
that don’t know the music
of my meandering feet,
and I will play their song
upon them.
Perfume me please
in the smells of far away,
I will never wash my hair
if it promises to stay.
I want a life measured
in the places I haven’t gone,
short sleeps on long flights,
strange voices teaching me
new words to
describe the dawn.
— Tyler Knott Gregson, I Want a Life Measured

Some people travel to feed some void within themselves that crossing borders and boarding planes promises to fill. Some people travel for a sense of accomplishment or one-upmanship that fills some other need they might have, keeping up with the Joneses or maybe even putting them in their place with bigger tales of adventure. Some simply love the thrill of discovery that can only come from climbing out of one’s own box and exploring something entirely new.

The places we go transform us and linger in our minds for years to come like a quiet conversation with a romantic partner we knew once upon a time. We who travel are known to flirt with adventure, and adventure usually rolls her eyes at us having heard it all before. It’s just our turn on the dance floor, and tomorrow someone else’s. Does that mean we shouldn’t travel? Of course we should, but a little perspective and humility go a long way with the locals and those who follow along back home.

Comparison is the death of joy, as my bride reminds me, and I’m at peace with the stage of life I’m in. We’ve arrived at a good place, she and I, a place where we don’t worry so much about the pace of filling our own bucket list and instead focus on living deliberately. When we travel we are thrilled by the experience, when we don’t we find beauty in the small corners of our existence we’ve been missing for want of attention. Discovery is an attitude, not a stamp in our passport. We may choose to delight in it all.

How do we measure our lives? Just what are we keeping score of anyway? I’ve come to view the scorebook more narrowly, in the encounters and discoveries I’ve had today, whether near or far from home. When we make it our practice to find wonder in the smallest details of our days, we find that the world opens up for us more than ever. It turns out that delight travels well, and is at home wherever we are.