“All journeys have destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” ~ Martin Buber

The most memorable of our travels, the journeys that stay with us, haunt us even, long after we’ve returned home change us in some noticeable way.  They satisfy what theologian Richard Niebuhr calls “a deep characteristic of human nature” to move into new realms, not only physically, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Such travels are not necessarily the trips we’ve taken to the most exotic locations, the farthest destinations, or those we’ve looked forward to with the greatest expectation.  They can be as close by as a walk through a local park or the woods adjacent to our backyard.  They do, however, share one common feature.  Each comprises an archetypal quest into a new realm of being – a journey, undertaken consciously or subconsciously, in order to obtain something, to reach a destination and a destiny.  Their lasting impact upon us comes from an awareness of having made a passage or transition.

This is soulful, or sacred, travel.  It entails no special visa or baggage, only an attention to, a curiosity about, the path beneath our feet.  It is seeing our own interconnectedness with everything around us and, thereby, awakening us to a sense of the sacred in each step of our journey.

“In each of us dwells a pilgrim,” Phil Cousineau tells us in The Art of Pilgrimage.  “It is the part of us that longs to have direct contact with the sacred.”  This is our archetypal longing for transformation – that deep-rooted urge to move to another, more meaningful realm.

When we travel with a sense of the sacred, our journey takes on significance.  We are no longer just tourists scurrying from one guidebook attraction to another, so fixed in expectation that we are unable to experience a real sense of place.  As pilgrims, we wonder at the world.  We ask questions and discover the authenticity of the experience.  In doing so, we uncover the extraordinary in the ordinary.  Because the journey has meaning to us, we do not hurry from place to place.

Sacred travel also teaches us to “stretch ourselves” when our journey becomes arduous or trying.  Traditionally, the pilgrim’s path has been a difficult one.  A sacred journey required sacrifices, giving something up, along the way.  In this way the pilgrimage became a metaphor for relinquishing material and ego needs to prepare for the spiritual transformation at the end of the journey.

In much the same way, if we allow annoyances like flight delays, lost luggage, inferior lodgings, and inclement weather to torment us, we yield to our own comfort and close our minds and our pilgrim’s eye to the sacredness of the journey.  As a result, we return home from our trip feeling unchanged by it.

With insights we gather on the road, we can begin to see our everyday life as a pilgrimage.  The journey reminds us that we will encounter obstacles, that these are necessary hurdles we must overcome if we’re to find deeper meaning in our life.  We cannot allow them to deter us from the sacred path.  The pilgrim’s epiphany, our revelation, is this:  The sacred is all around us.  From the journey, we learn to look at our surroundings… and our day-to-day life… with a new awareness.

Anatole France captured this very essence of sacred travel when he said, “Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe.”

That harmony, not the places we visit, is the true destination of our travels.  And when we learn how to carry the quality of the sacred journey into everyday life, we no longer feel like a stranger to the world… or to ourselves.  We sense the change and the journey stays with us.

“Angels fly because they take themselves lightly.”~ G.K. Chesterton

It’s a crazy world out there and, let’s face it, sometimes just coping with the problems of the world (and in our own lives) can sap our energy and leave us feeling emotionally drained at the end of the day. Fortunately, to deal with the stress of our day-to-day existence, Nature has provided us with a “sixth sense” — our sense of humor. The problem is, as we grow older we develop an unhealthy tendency to take ourselves too seriously.

We fool ourselves into thinking that proficiency at what we do in life must necessarily involve an appearance of sober attention to our commitments. To be perceived as taking our responsibilities too lightly sends, we fear, a message that we’re somehow less skillful, less efficient, or less dedicated to what we’re doing. As a result, we too often pay for our seriousness with stress, burnout, and a feeling that we’re getting no joy out of our work.

We fail to understand that it’s quite possible to be sincere about our work… and our life… without taking it all so seriously. In fact, learning to take ourselves more lightly is without a doubt better for our physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health.

Think of it this way: Nature gave us our sense of humor because we require it to stay healthy. Though medical science stops short of claiming that humor and laughter are capable of reversing any disease, an active sense of humor undisputedly makes sure that our body’s natural health and healing systems are fully engaged in defending against disease.

Most notably, laughter has been shown to lower the level of the stress hormones epinephrine and cortisol in the blood. And, since stress has been linked to the six leading causes of death in the U.S., a good laugh a few times a day may be the easiest – and most affordable – prescription for our wellness.

When we take ourselves more lightly and allow our sense of humor to influence how we view the world, we nurture a more positive, optimistic perspective of things. Our attitude about our job and our life almost immediately improves. Obstacles seem less formidable. Troubled relationships appear less difficult to mend. And, as we replace high-stress emotions like anger, anxiety, and fear with compassion and a positive attitude, we are able to respond to adversity and challenges with a calmer, clearer perspective. We enjoy life more.

At the same time, we are playing an active role in triggering our body’s own health and healing resources, so directly connected are our emotions to our overall wellness.

It’s ironic, I suppose, that as we grow older, take on responsibility and the need to deal with the obligations and tragedies of our lives, we tend to ignore our most powerful resource for maintaining our emotional and physical health – Laughter. According to William Fry, M.D., professor of psychiatry at Stanford University Medical School and an expert on health and laughter, the average kindergarten student laughs 300 times a day. Adults, on the other hand, average just 17 laughs a day.

Perhaps it’s time that we recapture a bit of that lightness we knew as children, a time when each day promised opportunities. When we took ourselves lightly and understood the pure, cleansing delight of a good laugh.

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In Wellness…
Nearly 100 years ago, renowned Harvard psychologist Henry James said “We don’t laugh because we are happy; we’re happy because we laugh.” Laughter, it turns out, goes a lot further than simply making us feel good. Medical research now attributes many other health benefits to laughter, as well, including lower blood pressure, improved brain function, stress relief, increased immune system efficiency, and a reduced risk of heart disease.

Laughter may, indeed, be the best medicine. Plus, it’s readily available, has no negative side effects… and it’s free!

Here are a few simple things you can do to make laughter a regular part of your healthy lifestyle:

• Smile or laugh at least 5 minutes each day.
• Learn to laugh at yourself and your life situation more often.
• Let go of being an adult all of the time and give yourself permission to play more often.
• Practice telling more jokes and funny stories.
• Bring laughter into your intimate relationship.
• Laugh out loud for no reason at all (Yes… it really works!).

(Some of the above information was taken from Wellness Wednesdays™ — our weekly email-coaching program that delivers to your inbox weekly tips on how you can successfully reduce the stress in your life. To learn more about Wellness Wednesdays™, visit  our Wellness Wednesdays page.)

In the Know…
Ever wonder why you can’t tickle yourself? If, as some scientists believe, laughing caused by tickling is a built-in instinct, then theoretically you ought to be able to tickle yourself. But you can’t – not even in the same area and using the same way someone else tickles you.??Seems that when you try to tickle yourself there are two critical conditions missing. No one knows for sure why, but the brain requires tension and surprise before it sends the message to your spinal cord that you’re being tickled. (Source:  How Stuff Works)

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Ernest Hemingway’s closing words in A Moveable Feast have always resonated with me: “But this is how Paris was in the early days, when we were very poor and very happy.”

Hauntingly sad words from a writer who had already become a legend – as a writer and as a public figure – by the time he wrote them nearly four decades later in 1960 (a year before his death) and who was enjoying all of the material trappings that went along with his fame.

I think I’ve figured out why those closing words have stuck with me – and why they relate to this issue’s focus on the ephemeral value of the things we own. A Moveable Feast reflects, in part, Hemingway’s realization that happiness and satisfaction with one’s life is not measured in material possessions acquired or in celebrity status.

The “things” we acquire often distract us from our journey with temporary gratification, squeeze our sense of purpose with artificial expectations and, in the end, disappoint us with their nebulous value. They clutter our lives – physically, emotionally and spiritually.

To paraphrase sociologist Elise Boulding, because our consumption society has conditioned us to feel that happiness lies in acquiring possessions, it has “failed to teach us the happiness of not having things.” Our ambitions make us hungry for status, mistakenly measured not in the inner satisfaction of the accomplishment itself, but in our public displays – luxury automobiles, bigger houses, the elite company we keep, and the power we wield – that the accomplishment makes possible. We lose sight of our real needs and, in the process, let our wants run amuck.

Possessions, in and of themselves, are not necessarily a bad thing, and we’re not advocating austerity here. But when we mistake our consumption urge as a means toward enduring happiness, we’re more often than not going to be disappointed. At some point the things we own begin to own us.

Once the instant gratification wears off, the value of the objects we’ve acquired diminishes – often while we’re still paying off the credit cards and loans we took out to purchase them. In turn, we seek more gratification and succumb once again to our urge to own something bigger or better, perpetuating a vicious cycle of consumerism.

Beyond our perceived need to exhibit our status publicly, there are many theories of why we become entrenched in this cycle. If we grew up poor, for example, surrounding ourselves with material goods may assure us that we’ll always have enough. Or if we suffer from low self-esteem, we may feel the need to shore-up our morale with beautiful surroundings. Whatever the reason, we are fooling ourselves if we expect happiness to be packaged on a retailer’s shelf, to come with leather upholstery and a convertible top, or to be embedded within the walls of a new house.

Once we’re caught in this cycle, our desire for a newer model, for a bigger and better this or that, clouds our perspective on what matters most to us. We condition ourselves to no longer be content with what we have and, thus, the object of our life’s work becomes a quest for material goods or name recognition. We lose sight of spiritual fulfillment or accomplishing the task or the skill we set out to master. Always wanting more, we are unable to celebrate the way things are in the moment. Happiness cannot bloom amid the weeds of discontent.

Truth is, our possessions eventually become little more than clutter in our lives rather than a panacea to assure our happiness. At some level we all know that. The key is to separate our true needs from our wants, to rid our lives from the complexity the clutter creates. “When you realize there is nothing lacking,” Lao Tzu said, “the whole world belongs to you.”

In Paris, the world belonged to Hemingway. He lived simply and happily, requiring only a good morning’s effort at crafting a new story, the intimacy of his wife and young son, and a close circle of friends. That was before his fame and fortune made his life complex and robbed him of fulfillment and happiness.