Backpacks and Barbells

Packing... It was as hard as I imagined it would be if not harder. To be honest, I'm not sure I've ever felt more high maintenance. I all of a sudden had an emotional attachment to articles of clothing, or maybe the thought of being over there and not having the exact thing I needed scared me. My first attempt ended in at least a quarter of my stuff not even fitting in the backpack. Items that I had deemed necessities laying outside of the already busting zippers. So I unpack. Reassess. Start again by choosing the things I absolutely can not live without. I think I parted with three items. Repack. No go. This process of unpacking, purging, and repacking went on four or five times until I could finally get the bag zipped. Never once through all of this did it cross my mind that I would actually be carrying this across Europe. Forty-seven pounds on your shoulders will make your arms go numb in about 10 minutes. Not feasible. Process repeat. Here's the list of items that made ...

"To understand the world, you must first understand a place like Mississippi" - William Faulkner I was reminded of this quote a few months ago; and in the light of the journey I am now on, it made me stop and think. If anyone asks me where I'm from, I always proudly reply "the Mississippi Gulf Coast". After some time thinking on what this quote means to me, I've come to realize that Mississippi is more than where I'm from; it is in large part who I am. I've lived outside of Mississippi for almost 10 years now, but it takes no more than a few days for me to be reminded of why this place is so special. In Mississippi, quality of life is measured in relationships and time spent with loved ones. Success is measured in hard work and perseverance. In Mississippi, Sunday lunches are eaten together in the house that was built entirely by the hands of family. Crawfish and crabs are thrown on one table, and everyone is welcome. In Mississippi, communities...

The day is here. I’m sitting in the Atlanta airport on what is the first leg of my journey. I usually use dead airport time to catch up on Facebook or sleep. I’m typically the one plugged into my music minding my own business, but today I’m drawn to what’s going on around me. The movement; the interactions. I watch the man in a suit awkwardly run down the terminal half bouncing, half dragging his suitcase behind him, the young couple laughing and holding hands, the family of 7 with dad being the obvious pack mule. I can’t help but laugh a little at that as I’m sure my dad at some point knew this man’s pain. I watch, and I try to wrap my mind around all of the change happening. The airport is probably one of the most obvious, literal representations of change. Whether it’s for just a weekend, or a week, or maybe something longer, every person that walks by is in the process of some sort of change. Change. It’s the one thing we can always count on, and perhaps one of the most challenging...