Life moves through us.
I just got back from an overseas trip with a friend.
When I travel, I’m reminded how little control I actually have and how freeing that can be. Flights get delayed. Plans shift. Conversations unfold I could never have scripted.
There’s something humbling about realizing the world keeps spinning without my permission.
At first, that loss of control stirs something inside me. I feel it in the airport line when everything slows down. I feel it when the driver takes a wrong turn and I end up somewhere I didn’t mean to go.
But, then something happens.
If I stop fighting it, something softens.
My shoulders drop.
My breath deepens.
My eyes open.
I start seeing what’s right in front of me instead of what I thought should happen. I notice the kindness of strangers. The rhythm of a new city. The quiet guidance that hums beneath the noise.
The café owner who adds extra foam because he can tell you’ve had a long day.
The laughter that breaks out on a train when no one speaks the same language but everyone gets the joke.
The way the morning light hits the cobblestones and you feel, for a moment, at home in a place you’ve never been.
That’s when travel becomes more than movement.
It becomes aliveness.
A joyful, joy filled adventure.
Because, travel doesn’t just take you somewhere new. It shows you who you are when the plan falls apart. It reveals how you respond when comfort disappears and you have to trust something deeper than a schedule.
Somewhere between the missed flights and the unplanned detours, I remember what I too often forget: Life doesn’t need me to force it. It needs me to trust it.
There’s a difference between trying to control Life and learning to cooperate with it.
Control tightens the body.
Cooperation opens it.
Control demands an outcome.
Cooperation listens for direction.
Control is born from fear.
Cooperation grows from faith.
When I travel with faith instead of fear, the world feels different.
Time slows.
People soften.
The noise quiets.
Delays stop being problems. They become invitations.
Every moment I cannot control becomes a moment I can receive.
That’s the lesson travel keeps teaching me.
You don’t need to know where you’re going to find meaning.
You don’t need a plan to find peace.
You only need to pay attention.
Because, the truth is, every day is an unpredictable journey. The difference is that at home, I pretend to know what’s next. I fill my calendar. I make my lists. I tell myself certainty equals safety. But, it doesn’t.
That’s an illusion.
Control is a myth we cling to because trust feels too risky.
Travel breaks that illusion in the best way possible. It reminds me that Life isn’t a project to perfect. It’s a mystery to participate in.
And, when I participate. When I stop managing and start noticing. Something holy happens.
Peace enters.
Joy returns.
Gratitude wakes up.
That’s what I brought home this time. Not just memories or stories, but a way of seeing. A way of being.
The reminder that I don’t need to grip so tightly. That Life isn’t asking me to pass a test. It’s inviting me to join a dance.
So this week, I’m holding that posture.
Open hands.
Curious heart.
Grounded steps.
Because, every delay, every detour, every unexpected moment is an invitation to trust again.
To remember that I’m not running the show.
To remember that I never was.
There’s a Life moving through me that knows where it’s going.
It moves through the clouds and the currents and the conversations I didn’t plan.
It moves through strangers and sunsets and small acts of grace.
It moves through laughter, through rest, through the spaces between words.
And, when I stop gripping long enough to feel it, I find what I was looking for all along.
Freedom.
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Steve Knox | Atlanta, Georgia
\\\ Thanks for reading. Here’s to embracing Life moving through us. Until next week. Be honest. Be you. Much love.