Written by Alexandria Hilton
My inbox is exhausting, to put it mildly.
“Subject: Hurricane Helene”
Delete
“Subject: Hurricane Milton”
Delete
Gosh, I did not think I’d be writing another one of these so soon.
*Deep Sigh*
Hurricane Milton, right on the heels of Hurricane Helene, rocked this community, my community. And as we ourselves recover at ATI, we are here to help our friends in any way we can. But I’ll be honest and say I am feeling quite tired and helpless and useless and
Powerless.
No pun intended.
In an effort not to write another not-so-subtle post about why I think we should all be traveling more sustainably because extreme weather events are ruining the world, my world, I am going to take a different approach and offer something on
Power.
In speaking with multiple friends recently, I have found the theme of empowerment comes up quite regularly when new travelers discover the joys of planning, booking, flying, staying, returning, remembering; all the joys of a journey. This moment in which I feel so powerless poses the following question:
How can travel empower us?
For one, traveling provides many opportunities for decisions to be made. Before taking a trip, you must decide where you want to visit, how you want to get there, with whom you want to make memories, for how long, at what time of year… the list goes on. And let’s be honest, there are lots of decisions you’d rather not face; there is of course such thing as decision overload. (That’s what we are here for!) But it is fundamentally true that the sense of accomplishment experienced by humans after we do what we had planned to do ranges from small dopamine rush to almost-ecstasy. Many pieces of our day-to-day lives are lived in service to others, decided by others in many ways. A vital ingredient to a great trip is the power of decision.
Travel can also empower us to change. On the road is where we meet new people who can teach us new things; it is where we see new menus, where we wonder whether PB&J actually belongs on chicken wings… We may discover new artists whose work would have never made it to our small town or hike trails we’ve only ever seen on instagram. And — if you’ll allow me to take a leap — travel can empower us to be, in the moment, altogether new. We can become entirely different people. Have you ever found yourself in the streets of a foreign town on a Thursday night, dancing barefoot without a single thought about it? Or shimmied up onto a karaoke stage you have never seen and will never again see? Or thrown a clay pot seated next to a complete stranger, struck up a conversation about pickles and then never thought about it again? Have you ever laid your head on a hotel pillow and thought,
“I’ve never before met that version of myself. I like her.”
There is a letting go of judgement, a lightness, an inhibition that comes with visiting new places. And the levity of those moments is what I believe to be deep empowerment.
In the aftermath of this storm, I observe the many ways I freeze:
I need to leave my apartment but every walk I take I see evidence of my lack of power in the form of fallen palms and shattered glass. The awnings I used to walk under I now step over and the traffic light at Orange and Fruitville dangles a spiraling wire onto my windshield. I can’t stay inside, though, because that’s where I have been for so many hours. I see now that I rely so heavily on my kettle and my Crosley and… well… the silence without them is deafening. International news reports bear the name of my shining city, the beach I love so dearly, and I can’t respond to tell the journalists I’m okay. People have lost their roofs, their cars, their entire homes. People have lost family members. People have lost employment. People are without power, yes, and also, feeling powerless, helpless, useless.
Also, though, when I walk, I see people un-boarding their businesses and kickstarting their coffee machines. Friends on the phone are on their way to other friends who need their help. I am always struck by our capacity for compassion in times like these; suddenly, I offer a smile to the driver next to me and I ask my neighbors how they are doing and I actually mean it and they actually respond. It feels like with some common enemy, in this case Milton, the members of a community can finally come together, take care of one another.
What I would like Milton to know right now is that he can shut off our lights, sure, but he cannot take our power.
Whenever you’re ready to start thinking about travel again, we’ll be here. Know there’s no rush to be anywhere but here. And know that we are here with you.
