The Journey Within the Journey

As I travel the world, passing through unfamiliar cities and quiet mountain paths, I find myself carrying a book that has traveled with me in another life —

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I first read it in my twenties, and now, decades later, it meets me again. But this time, I see something different.

Australia Bush Walk

The journey Pirsig takes with his son is not just across highways and campsites. It’s the same journey we all take: to make sense of who we are, to understand the shape of our lives, to seek connection—with others, with purpose, and with our own elusive sense of self.

In every country I visit, I find echoes of the same longings: people want to be seen, to love, to feel that their life matters. Whether in a bustling market in Athens or a quiet morning in Finland, I’ve come to believe we are not so different. We are all somewhere between what we were taught and what we are discovering for ourselves.

Pirsig’s question—what is Quality, what is real—mirrors my own reflections as a traveler. The more I explore the world, the more I realize: the outer journey only makes sense when I’m present for the inner one.

And perhaps that’s the art of being elsewhere: to find yourself not only in foreign places, but in deeper truths that follow you wherever you go.

p.s. 

As we travel, what strikes me most is how deeply human our similarities are. Yet, it also fills me with sadness when I contrast this shared humanity with what I’m witnessing back home in the United States. Pirsig’s idea of the “Qualityless”—a state where systems operate without soul, without depth, without moral compass—feels hauntingly present in the current political climate. I see policies and postures that dismiss nuance, disconnect us from compassion, and elevate power over integrity. It’s not just politics—it’s a flattening of meaning, a refusal to engage with the complexity and value of human life. In contrast, what I see abroad—families gathered at sunset, strangers offering directions, the quiet dignity of people in conversation—reminds me that Quality still lives in the small and sacred - and deeply in relationship…

The tragedy is not that we’ve lost it entirely, but that we’re being asked to stop looking for it.