Fear demands submission while hiding behind good intentions. It incites wanton disregard in the name of independence. And when called out, fear is quick to justify itself: “If you’re smart, you’ll be afraid. Very afraid.”
What will work and life look like after the pandemic?
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Is the answer to a fuller life working less?
Jonathan Malesic argues that your job, or lack of one, doesn’t define your human worth. -
What do we lose when we lose the office?
William D. Cohan, a former investment banker, wonders how the next generation will learn and grow professionally. -
How can we reduce unnecessary meetings?
Priya Parker explores why structuring our time is more complicated than ever. -
You’ll probably have fewer friends after the pandemic. Is that normal?
Kate Murphy, the author of “You’re Not Listening,” asks whether your kid’s soccer teammate’s parents were really the friends you needed.
Maybe there’s another answer, one that is paradoxical to the narrative we’ve been living. Whatever the effectiveness of closing borders, there’s little doubt that it has succeeded in exacerbating our (not always) latent fear of the “other.” But isolation is a devil’s garden. Of course, due diligence and responsible behavior are required in such a fluid situation, but taking back our agency has its own rewards. With the proper precautions, travel may provide a most unlikely way out of this quagmire of fear in which we find ourselves.
The great travel writer Paul Theroux said that “travel is optimism in action.” Confronted with ever-changing restrictions, complicated and confusing testing protocols, and inconsistent messaging, travelers today need all the optimism they can muster. But reduced services and limitations that we have learned to take in stride at home during the pandemic have created in us an adaptability that is an ideal quality for the road. If you have a willingness to be flexible, the rewards of travel still await.
I recently returned from Ireland, where fewer travelers lent the place a homey feel I hadn’t experienced since before the Celtic Tiger roared. I fell in love with the Irish anew and returned energized and expansive — feelings in short supply during Covid.
Over the summer, inspired by my desire to allay the fear that had built up in me over the pandemic, I again walked across Spain for a month on the Camino de Santiago, this time with my 19-year-old son. The liberation we both experienced was profound. The tyrannical rule of fear could not stand up under the force of human connection. Optimism returned. And I’m headed to Antarctica, where I trust all that fresh air and open space to keep me safe. The thought of encountering blue ice elicits a sense of hope that has been absent for too long.
It might feel counterintuitive to leave what is familiar and seemingly safe to venture out into the unknown in order to be free of life’s terrors, but that is exactly what has been my liberation. It’s always easier to sit on the couch than to get up and go. But maybe the couch is no longer the answer. Perhaps it’s time, with the proper safeguards, to get back out there. Travel still has the power to amaze, to delight and surprise, to awe and inspire, to unite, and most important right now, to obliterate fear.
Andrew McCarthy is a travel writer and actor, and the author, most recently, of the memoir “Brat: An ’80s Story.”
This content was originally published here.
