The Spiritual Traveler Or How to Make It Through Your Trip Without Killing Someone

Have you ever noticed that despite being a spiritual person—or a good person—it all goes out the window when you hit that airport security line? Perhaps that’s what airports were designed for; to test your spiritual mettle.

I travel. A lot. So on my overseas trip of nearly 30 hours in the air, I created these quick tips to keep your sanity, and maybe a little bit of your spiritual practice, intact:

ACT AS IF

My husband, deeply spiritual man that he is, hates to travel. That is, he loves the idea of being there, but he hates the process of actually getting in the car, getting on the plane, and flying for umpteen hours, to say nothing of the packing and unpacking and endless trip preparations.

For the three days leading up to the trip, he is in a perpetual bad mood, which escalates until he’s actually sitting in his seat on the plane, too exhausted to do anything but grimace. Don’t do this. Instead…act as if. 

This means:

                        • Pretend that this journey will be the best one you’ve ever taken.

                        • Any chance that you get to reframe from negative into positive, take it.

                        • Replace thoughts of annoying packing with the awareness that you can bring as few clothes

                           as you would like

                        • Consider leaving some of your technology devices at home.

For example, when Greg forgot his laptop one time, he actually had a much better trip. So much better, in fact, that the last time he traveled to a foreign country, he actually took a Technology Shabbat and shut down all of his electronics for 48 hours. He said it was the best thing he’s ever done on the trip.

Act as if all is well, and it opens up the possibility that it will be.

TURN IT AROUND

I got to the airport for my last journey seven hours early. While I had hoped to be able to spend my time in the business lounge, an annoying combination of events stuck me in The Daily Grill restaurant for over four hours.

Instead of being frustrated, I chose to be grateful for my private booth and the power outlet underneath it, which meant that I could type to my heart’s content without using up any battery. Then I got down to the gate three hours ahead of time, thinking that I would be first in line, only to encounter a snaking line of people that practically went out the front door. As I stood at the end of the queue boiling with fury, I asked myself:

“How can I turn this around so that the experience can be a good one?”  

People were driving me crazy, so I chose to focus on them.

At first, it was just a Chinese man with giant Elton John glasses. I looked at him and thought, “This is another human being and I love him.”

Then it was the Korean family with the screaming baby and the old grandfather who couldn’t shuffle along fast enough to keep the line from slowing down. I loved them, first individually and then as a family unit, then, as I looked at them again, as an example of our unity.

They were all one with each other and by extension with me and by extension the whole world.

I was starting to feel better already, so I turned and looked at the huge line of people all around me and the teeming mass throughout the rest of the terminal. The sea of humanity represented everything, a microcosm of the macrocosm. I loved each of them and all of them as much as I could.

Just then, a security guard asked me if I already had my boarding pass, which I did, so she moved me to a line of just two people, and I was through with my check-in process and headed down to security within 15 minutes.

Direct cause and effect? I have no idea and I don’t care.

I took the opportunity to flip something on its head, and something got turned around for me. I was just grateful.