Travel’s magical disappearing act begins before we leave home. Rule number one: pack light. Don’t do so because it’s virtuous or ecologically sound but because you’ll enjoy yourself more. Pack light and you feel light.Packing light has nothing to do with overhead bins and everything to do with psychology. Less stuff means fewer choices. Choice is good, up to a point, but too many choices confuse us, and rob us of happiness, as research shows. Travel is about corralling those choices, subduing them. A pared-down life is a better, happier life. S

 A pared-down life is a better, happier life

<h2 aria-label="subtitle paragraph" data-selectable-paragraph="">It’s not about where you go, but what you leave behind</h2><figure><img alt="" src="https://miro.medium.com/max/500/0*TV3YfV6XTta" width="692" height="519"><figcaption class="jj jk fh ff fg jl jm cg b ej ek bw" data-selectable-paragraph="" dir="ltr">Photo by <a class="au jn" href="https://unsplash.com/@olexandrignatov?utm_source=medium&amp;utm_medium=referral" rel="noopener ugc nofollow" dir="ltr">Olexandr Ignatov</a> on <a class="au jn" href="https://unsplash.com/?utm_source=medium&amp;utm_medium=referral" rel="noopener ugc nofollow" dir="ltr">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure>It is a truism that travel broadens your horizons. Like most truisms, it is only partly true. Yes, travel expands your world, but it does so by shrinking it.I was reminded of this delicious paradox recently when I did something I hadn’t done in a very long time: checked into a hotel. A DoubleTree, it wasn’t especially luxurious, and definitely not exotic, located less than a mile from my house near Washington, D.C. But as I swiped my key card and entered the room, sanitized for my convenience, I exhaled. I could think again.It wasn’t what the hotel offered that explained my elation but what it lacked — namely a houseful of crap, literal as well as figurative, thanks to a sewage “situation” that, trust me, you don’t want to know about. This, I thought, is why I travel — not to expand my life but to shrink it. Contain it. At home, clutter — both the physical and mental variety — threatens to suffocate me. Not so in hotel rooms like this. Travel liberates me from…. well, from myself. Unencumbered, I can breathe again.<BLOCKQUOTE>The traveler jettisons excess stuff for the same reason a hot-air balloonist jettisons ballast: to soar higher.</BLOCKQUOTE>Travel’s magical disappearing act begins before we leave home. Rule number one: pack light. Don’t do so because it’s virtuous or ecologically sound but because you’ll enjoy yourself more. Pack light and you feel light.The ideal luggage is big enough to hold nearly as much stuff as I need, but not quite. It forces me to curate my crap. Do I really need to bring the complete works of Tolstoy in the original Russian? Do I really need that complete set of Alpaca sweaters, or will one suffice? The traveler jettisons excess stuff for the same reason a hot-air balloonist jettisons ballast: to soar higher.Packing light has nothing to do with overhead bins and everything to do with psychology. Less stuff means fewer choices. Don’t get me wrong. Choice is good, up to a point, but too many choices confuse us, and robs us of happiness, as <a href="https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/the-tyranny-of-choice/" rel="noopener ugc nofollow" dir="ltr">research</a> shows. Travel is about corralling those choices, subduing them. Life on the road is circumscribed, manageable, and that is why I find it so appealing. A pared-down life is a better, happier life. Some two dozen <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/17439760.2021.1991450?needAccess=true" rel="noopener ugc nofollow" dir="ltr">studies</a> in recent years found a clear and consistent connection between voluntary simplicity and happiness.Like many people, I knew this intuitively, and dutifully purchased Marie Kondo’s book, The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up, thus adding to my clutter. I confess: I never read it. It seemed too daunting. Sure, I could spend weeks, months, sifting through my mountain of accumulated possessions in search of those few items that spark joy, but who has that kind of time? Travel curates my life instantly.Thus, the dirty little secret of travel: it’s a parlor trick, a mind game. We are exactly the same person on the road as we are at home. You may feel more romantic in Paris or more relaxed in Rio de Janeiro, but those cities, wonderful as they are, can’t take all the credit. So, why the transformation? Because out there you give yourself permission to be romantic or relaxed, or whatever, and so you do. Everything you experience while traveling you could experience at home too. It’s just a lot harder. Parlor tricks, and a little self-deception, are useful.So are blinders. We humans are like racehorses. We pay attention to what is in front of us. Peripheral vision slows us down, and occasionally spooks us. A good journey is like a good pair of blinders. It keeps us focused on what really matters.And if genius is knowing what to overlook, as the philosopher Williams James said, then we’re more likely to achieve something akin to genius, or at least contentment, out there, on the road, where there is less to overlook and more to see.

It is a truism that travel broadens your horizons. Like most truisms, it is only partly true. Yes, travel expands your world, but it does so by shrinking it. I was reminded of this delicious paradox…

personaldevelopment

Personal Development

travel

Travel

It’s not about where you go, but what you leave behind

It is a truism that travel broadens your horizons. Like most truisms, it is only partly true. Yes, travel expands your world, but it does so by shrinking it.

I was reminded of this delicious paradox recently when I did something I hadn’t done in a very long time: checked into a hotel. A DoubleTree, it wasn’t especially luxurious, and definitely not exotic, located less than a mile from my house near Washington, D.C. But as I swiped my key card and entered the room, sanitized for my convenience, I exhaled. I could think again.

It wasn’t what the hotel offered that explained my elation but what it lacked — namely a houseful of crap, literal as well as figurative, thanks to a sewage “situation” that, trust me, you don’t want to know about. This, I thought, is why I travel — not to expand my life but to shrink it. Contain it. At home, clutter — both the physical and mental variety — threatens to suffocate me. Not so in hotel rooms like this. Travel liberates me from…. well, from myself. Unencumbered, I can breathe again.

The traveler jettisons excess stuff for the same reason a hot-air balloonist jettisons ballast: to soar higher.

Travel’s magical disappearing act begins before we leave home. Rule number one: pack light. Don’t do so because it’s virtuous or ecologically sound but because you’ll enjoy yourself more. Pack light and you feel light.

The ideal luggage is big enough to hold nearly as much stuff as I need, but not quite. It forces me to curate my crap. Do I really need to bring the complete works of Tolstoy in the original Russian? Do I really need that complete set of Alpaca sweaters, or will one suffice? The traveler jettisons excess stuff for the same reason a hot-air balloonist jettisons ballast: to soar higher.

Packing light has nothing to do with overhead bins and everything to do with psychology. Less stuff means fewer choices. Don’t get me wrong. Choice is good, up to a point, but too many choices confuse us, and robs us of happiness, as <a href="https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/the-tyranny-of-choice/">research </a>shows. Travel is about corralling those choices, subduing them. Life on the road is circumscribed, manageable, and that is why I find it so appealing. A pared-down life is a better, happier life. Some two dozen <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/17439760.2021.1991450?needAccess=true">studies </a>in recent years found a clear and consistent connection between voluntary simplicity and happiness.

Like many people, I knew this intuitively, and dutifully purchased Marie Kondo’s book, The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up, thus adding to my clutter. I confess: I never read it. It seemed too daunting. Sure, I could spend weeks, months, sifting through my mountain of accumulated possessions in search of those few items that spark joy, but who has that kind of time? Travel curates my life instantly.

Thus, the dirty little secret of travel: it’s a parlor trick, a mind game. We are exactly the same person on the road as we are at home. You may feel more romantic in Paris or more relaxed in Rio de Janeiro, but those cities, wonderful as they are, can’t take all the credit. So, why the transformation? Because out there you give yourself permission to be romantic or relaxed, or whatever, and so you do. Everything you experience while traveling you could experience at home too. It’s just a lot harder. Parlor tricks, and a little self-deception, are useful.

So are blinders. We humans are like racehorses. We pay attention to what is in front of us. Peripheral vision slows us down, and occasionally spooks us. A good journey is like a good pair of blinders. It keeps us focused on what really matters.

And if genius is knowing what to overlook, as the philosopher Williams James said, then we’re more likely to achieve something akin to genius, or at least contentment, out there, on the road, where there is less to overlook and more to see.

The Real Reason You’re Happier When You Travel

A pared-down life is a better, happier life

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