Traveling is beautiful; this feels normal but it’s hitting me — I’ve made this unusual circumstance my life because it’s what I love; what calls me and grabs me and won’t let go; what causes my heart to beat faster and my mind to turn, to notice, watch, dig and uncover. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m here.

Seoul, South Korea, Jan 2nd.

Morning in the living room at the hostel amongst other travelers and the Korean owners. A couple; this is their house. Their daughter and son eat lunch at the table; the mom made bibimbap and fried rice. They wanted different things, she says warmly when a traveler asks what she made.

I overhear her telling another traveler that the kids are on Christmas break; the girl’s doing piano lessons and dance lessons, the boy’s doing computer engineering.

And my friends and I are here, a part of their lives, hanging on the couch as the mom’s doing dishes. The kids and the dad are at the table eating; the kids don’t really look at us, don’t really pay attention. They speak Korean to one another. I can’t help but grin. What an upbringing they must have — I’m just another soul, one of hundreds, thousands they’ve probably seen.

And we all have stories, all have pasts, all feel the dry cold of Seoul at the fresh start of a new year. We make plans in the morning, plans to see the city, to step into the year, into the future and the day, on the brink of what I know is where I long to remain.

The little girl leaves and says goodbye, straying from the comfort of home. Another traveler from England is getting called out for being loud last night. When my friends and I walked in he and another guy were drunk on the floor in the hallway — they get called out nicely, but there’s a firmness to the mother’s calm voice, a finality to the father’s admonition. Don’t do that shit again.

They’re clearly annoyed with him, and he’s sorry, embarrassed, but at least he’s down here apologizing. His comfort in making cereal and asking questions tells me he’s been here for a bit, as if they’re his aunt and uncle.

It’s just a funny man. I love this shit so much.

The world can be a scary place.

Yet, we choose which fire to stoke, to live in the flames of fear or courage, for we’ll burn either way if we long to feel what it means to be alive; so we step in or we remain restrained. I’ll burn in the embers of love, of searching, of adventure.

Where I’m going is where I am, where I’ve dreamed of being, and my dreams continue to come true, not a pinpoint answer nor a finish line, but a feeling. That of being in a Korean hostel, surrounded by my friends, with the innate knowing that what I want is what I want to want.

It’s the dream of a lifetime, not a single day.

Set your goals, your sights on the horizon — and when you’re not there tomorrow everything’s still fine. Don’t want life to change so quickly, embrace the steady climb for one day this will all fall into place, yet it has already when I decided what to chase.

That’s a life I love, a love of life, when what you want is what you want to want — think about that — I want to not want much because what I want’s inside, a code, a life force that I must abide.

I’ll cherish every day.

Spend my days in light. Weaving through shadow, different languages and cultures, their wisdom, differences and intricacies and grit making me burn brighter.

As a writer, I’ve hesitated to say that life is a fight. I’ve called it a dance, but it ain’t always pleasant, nor easy, nor fun.

The fight can be beautiful; and that’s what it is, a beautiful fucking battle with the insecure self and the forces of fear, the pressure of existence and the weight that we bear.

But we got each other; we got each other, and with the strength of those we love, the world is flooded with light.

How much time do we waste worrying about whether we’re gonna get here, exactly where we’re going, anyway? Let go, do your best, and savor the climb.

On the train to Busan, coming from Seoul. Feeling overwhelming gratitude.

Happiness for where we’re going, where we’ve been.

We can’t control what happens, and life is pretty crazy. But that’s how it should be — that’s how it must be. So roll with it and embrace the madness.

Amor fati — don’t just bear your fate. Love it.

Love the hand you’ve been dealt and do something with it. Let it change you. Let it make you. Let it open you and break you. Who you are, what you have — it’s special. For some inexplicable reason only you feel, it matters.

Good tunes on a train to a new city — I could ask for nothing better.