The Traveller

“(tourists)They change their climate, not their soul, who rush across the sea.”                                       –Horace, a Latin lyric poet

Copy of DSCF0396The dictionary has a very unimaginative description of what a Traveller really is. For example, my WordWeb dictionary simply states that a Traveller is  “A person who changes location.” How bland! Of course, some people–simple tourists–are quite content to just work their way from tourist spot to tourist spot, snapping tons of (now in digital format) unprofessional pictures of everything in sight, then come home and bore all their friends who can be captured to listen to the grand places that they visited and the good time they had.

But, in my opinion, that definition applies only to a plain, ordinary  tourist, not of a Traveller! Sure, a traveller, like a tourist, loves to roam and visit different places, but that’s where the similarity ends. A traveller searches out and tunes to the soul of the area that caused him stop at that location in the first place: why is this place as it is? Did some ancient, cold, forbidding  glacier direct the present course of this river, and are the glacier’s patterned footprints still visible? Then, in a different location, a Traveller might stop and ponder: did a now long forgotten tribe build this shrine to an omnipotent god who, in time, subjected these worshipers to a plague or drought–his way of calling the worshipers home to his bosom where he could love them better?

Therefore, I beseech you, dear tourist. Become a Traveller and let your soul attune to the indelible whispers etched into the places that you visit–invisible and inaudible to the bland, commercial tourist that visits today and is gone and forgotten  tomorrow.  You may not have as many pictures to brag about when you get home, but your soul will have snapped, and preserved for your quiet moments, God’s eternal expressions!

About Albert Schindler

I was born on the 27th of February, 1931, on a farm near Hubbard, Saskatchewan. As far back as I can remember I had a spirit that would not stay earthbound. In junior high, I remember taking first place for a short story in which I described my terrifying encounter with a dinosaur. In outer space – that is, when the teacher wasn’t directly speaking to me, I went where Buck Rogers wouldn’t dare go. I was more of a Calvin in Calvin and Hobbes type of guy, with my own, personal, very powerful, transmogrifyer always at the ready. In my ‘teens and twenties, I pushed aside my Calvin alter ego in favour of making a living and didn’t take seriously again my ‘writer’s bug’ until my late 30s. I still saw that the world as full of exciting things to learn and investigate, which my writing reflected in the several articles and a couple of short fiction pieces that I wrote and sold, including over 30 children’s radio plays for Alberta’s ACCESS Radio. Unfortunately, I abandoned my budding writing career in favour of starting my own business as a sign painter. Now that I can officially call myself ‘retired,’ I plan to resume my writing career, only this time, writing mostly fiction. Why fiction? I have lead a great, adventurous life in which I made many mistakes (the ‘adventure’ in life), that have taught me some very important lessons and allowed my spirit to grow to unimaginable proportions, inconceivable to me while still in my thirties. In fiction, I believe, one can adventure into both the inner and outer consciousness of man and the universe to infinite levels where only the boldest dare peak. Convention holds that article writing has to be factual – oh, you can be creative in how you present your information, but ‘fact’ (whatever that means) still must have its parameters in article writing, whereas fiction is limited only by the size of a writer’s spirit, and so far, I haven’t been able to fathom my limit.
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