In my mind, I’m quite the solo traveler. I pack light, go with the flow and don’t sweat the small stuff.
In reality, I’m better off staying at home. My pack weighs too much, I hold up the line at airport security and I freak out a little when I show up at the wrong Days Inn for my one night stay. I’d rather be at home. I prefer sleeping in my own bed. I like my morning routine. And as much as I like the view of Phoenix from 40,000 feet, I prefer my feet firmly planted on the ground.
I’m sitting in a hotel room in Phoenix, Ariz., on the way to Sedona and Baron Baptiste’s Level One Yoga Training. I have a simple goal in mind: To immerse myself in this week long training, and to bring this powerful form of yoga to our little studio in Concord. In a few hours, I’ll be heading north across the desert, the monsoon rains beating down and bringing needed water to this arid world. I’ll be riding with a new friend, Andrea, who is driving from Lake Elsinore, Calif. We’ll meet for the first time this morning, and join 100 other folks at what Baron Baptiste calls our “journey into power.”
Solo travel is a lot like practicing yoga. You get a glimpse of who you are, without any support. And you realize there is support, all around you. When you step on to your yoga mat, it helps to have a destination in mind: healing, fitness, peace, power. It helps to know where you are going. The poses in yoga class, like your travel plans, are leading you somewhere. Along the way, whether you are heading to the red rocks of Sedona, or to the deep rest of Savasana, the journey will always help you learn something new about how you show up in the world.
The first thing I learned was that I didn’t want to go. My wife, Heather, dropped me off at the Manchester airport. I didn’t want to leave my family. I didn’t want to leave the yoga studio. And yet, I knew I’d be bringing something amazing back. I just don’t know yet how it will unfold.
The second thing I learned is that people are amazing, friendly and open. All you have to do is ask questions and listen. It also helps to smile a little. It’s true when traveling. It’s true in yoga class. Here are a few of the people I met in my first day of travel:
Shawn and Caroline were heading from Manchester to Seattle. The three of us were almost two hours early for our flight. The three of us have small children at home, and were missing them already. I asked them if they’d like to join me in a short yoga practice. They politely declined, and Shawn took a couple of photos of me busting out some yoga next to Starbucks.
I sat next to Laura on the way to Philadelphia. She had just finished her master’s degree at SNHU, and was heading back to Amarillo, Texas. We shared a couple stories about Palo Duro Canyon, one of her “favorite places.” Her family has lived in the Texas panhandle for generations, and she has a tattoo on her right wrist memorializing her Dad, Cody. His birthday was Febr. 22, 1971. She still loves him dearly. She was also really tired, so I stopped asking her about her story, and let her take a nap.
I met Indu in Philly, while walking between gates and looking for a quick bite to eat. I asked directions to my gate, and where I might find some healthy food. She showed me the way, and said “Terminal B and C have the best food.” I asked if I could get a decent salad. She said yes, and that I could also get Chik-Fil-A. She also asked me why I would I want to ruin a good meal by eating kale and quinoa. She smiled like she had a really fun secret.
Fred was the shuttle driver who took me to the Days Inn. Twice. He’d been in Phoenix for 40 years, but he still sounded like the kid from Queens, where he was born. He said his family moved to Arizona right after the Blizzard of ‘78.
As I write this, the monsoon rains are pouring down outside. Folks will be converging on the Mago Retreat Center from all over the country in a few short hours. My new friend, Andrea, will be rolling up in the next hour. As I go for my last cup of coffee for the week, I meet one more person. Stephanie is behind the counter at the Days Inn. She’s from Buckeye, Ariz. I ask her if she likes living out here.
She says: “It’s home.”
Sometimes we have to travel far to get closer. See you on the mat, my friends.
