My beloved place in Morocco. I sometimes wonder what that feeling is. The feeling you have in some places. A longing that keeps pulling you back. The landscape, the people and their customs are so utterly foreign, yet there is something indescribable that closes the barrier of language and un-understandable habits. Differences turn into curiosities, poverty turns into richness, emptiness into fullness. I think our feelings are governed by those indescribable forces.
And while the sea gulls and blue local fisherman’s boats govern the deserted beach here, for many Moroccans, life itself is governed by God—always guiding, providing, and writing the course of the river of life—a way of thinking and living that, to be really honest, does not seem so foreign to me. And maybe that is the catch of coming back, or just travelling in general: closing the gaps between what seemingly belongs to you or me. My ideas, your ideas; my beliefs, your beliefs; my standards, your standards; my God, your God.
Because in the end, what is it that unites? Sharing, caring, loving, laughing, crying, suffering, struggling. In other words life. The foundations are the same, the expressions may be a little different..
So the real question is, how can we close those unnecessary global gaps, while keeping the utterly interesting and necessary differences? What is the use of the gap between rich and poor? The gap between man and women? The gap between developed and undeveloped? The gap between man and environment … ?
And, maybe, that is the real purpose of traveling, seeing that all boundaries are conventions, waiting to be overcome, but only to be overcome if one first can conceive of doing so. So how can we unite in diversification? How can we create system of exploration instead of borders, of flow and not accumulation, of creating and not owning, of sharing instead of having—a global village in where we are all free to roam?
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