The lone drifter

6:30AM. Here I stand, all bright-eyed and bushy tailed as I await for the arrival of my silver chariot. I have been traveling by train a lot lately; it is my new favorite way to move and shake about the good ole US of A.

As I stand perched up against the railing, waiting for my train, while sipping on my Starbucks whatever you wanna call it (I like to just look at the pictures and pick something that is calling to me that day.) I observe all the business men and women marching along in their daily routine. Soldiers to The Man, children of the plan. Everyone dressed in their most monotone shade of grey, sporting their most miserable grin while gripping onto a briefcase of some shape or form. Except me, the lone drifter.

There I stand, as black sheep as one could possibly get. Red pants, a pretty massive hat, & a flowy shaw made out of the same material as those blankets that your grandma always had like 4 of on her couch. To give you an idea of how loud this outfit truly is, every single time I wear this shaw my mother asks me “Are you really gonna wear a blanket in public?” It is pretty amazing, might I add. Anyway, back to my gypsy attire and nomadic state of mind…

While entirely relaxed with one foot propped up on my pink and white zig-zag print suitcase, I embrace the noticeable difference between myself and everyone else around me. Striving to be different is a behavior I have possessed for as long as I can remember. I can proudly say, even at the Amtrak station, I am staying true to myself and my deep desire to stand out.

Throughout my entire life, I have always really felt that I am the lone drifter. There ways always something that prevented me from being truly apart of it, whatever it may be. When I was living in the Caribbean, I went with the intention of only staying one month (which turned in to five, because like I said… it is the Caribbean) I always viewed myself as if I wasn’t truly apart of the other friends of mine living there, because I knew I wouldn’t be there long. I wasn’t a “true local,” or whatever it meant to be apart of it. I was the lone drifter that was just passing through.

Just shortly before moving to the Caribbean, I was living in San Diego for college. I only lived there for a year, but every weekend I was traveling outside of San Diego; to the desert, to Mexico, to Florida, you name it. Therefore, I wasn’t one of them. I was the lone drifter that was always out of town, and only around when my heart wasn’t pulling me somewhere else. Oh yeah, or when I had a test. Haha!

One summer, before graduating high school and moving out west, I decided to execute one of my first salty gypsea travels. I packed up my dog and surfboards and went south, to Hatteras, North Carolina. I had made a bunch of friends who were kite-board instructors or worked at the surf shop, and knew how to throw one hell of a party. Being the fun-loving nomad that I am, I decided I wanted to be apart of the shenanigans. But I didn’t wanna commit to a job or a place to stay, because… well I just don’t do to well with commitments or anything permanent really. Long story short, I would come and go as I pleased, crashing wherever it felt right: my car, tent, a friend’s house, a friend’s backyard, the beach. Wherever my little gypsy soul desired. But, I never viewed myself as apart of it, simply because I didn’t do what everyone else did and get the job/place to rent. I was the lone drifter that let the wind and the tides make all of my decisions.

Even on a much smaller scale, like today, I am the lone drifter. And it is okay; it is something I am entirely used to and proud of, now. I am utterly stoked to take this train, as I drift on up to New York City. Everyone else around me, I’m sure with all different destinations, seems to be feeling the exact opposite.

The idea that someone could be fortunate enough to find a routine in an activity as extravagant as riding a train, and then complain about it or go through the motion with negative energy embodying them, is absolutely astonishing to me. You are telling me that you have the opportunity to ride this fast moving, several foot long, silver pod that you don’t even have to navigate, and you are going to complain about it? Mind. Blown.

Maybe they are all upset about their dull-colored outfits. Maybe they despise what their means of making a living involves. But I’ll be damned if I show up to ride this magic silver chariot that gently glides me from city to city with a negative demeanor. I think we often are so desensitized to some of the most magical experiences, simply because we expect it. Nothing in this world is guaranteed, every moment should be viewed as a miracle. Just imagine how much better of a world we would live in, if we all experienced everything as if it were some special opportunity versus something that was supposed to happen.

The more you begin to look at everything as if you are lucky to be receiving it, the more you start to receive the unimaginable. The luckier you become. Promise. Give it a try, for me. And if you don’t “become luckier” well, at least you are viewing everything as a blessing. You, my friend, will have just taught yourself one of the most important lessons of life: gratitude. Always be thankful for what you have, but never lose sight of what you want.

If there is one thing I am certain of, it is that the universe places extraordinary opportunities to those who are grateful and will appreciate those gifts. The more you start to be grateful for what you already have, the more you will receive to be grateful for. The universe rewards those of us who recognize and appreciate the many gifts of life.

Another little tid bit about trains: I absolutely love the fact that (at the smaller stations) there are no screens, no man telling you where to go and when to go there. You have to rely on the people around you to figure out where you are and where you wanna go. You know, like we used to do it in the old days. I absolutely adore situations that force society to interact with each other.