As a kid, I would spend the nights before family trips mostly tossing and turning in bed. I would count the sheep, check every pattern on the ceiling, tap the seconds, find the rhythms in whizzing of the fan, but nothing seemed to make the morning come any faster. All I could think was in the morning or at an odd time before sunrise, I would rise to go on vacation with my family: a new place I’ve never been, sights, foods, and hotels much nicer to my room. I twisted and turned but the morning couldn’t come any faster. It was a terrible and a great feeling.
Now I know: the thing that I felt then is called excitement. The great and terrible feeling the night before a family trip was excitement to the ten year-old. I know this because many years later now I no longer have trouble sleeping before traveling. I know what happens in the morning: gather things, feed self, and get on the road to another place. Once arrived I deposit my belongings and set out to see a new or familiar place. Sometimes unexpected things happen, and dealing with them I get to know myself. Above all, I know the drill of travel procedures, and the morning no longer seem promise anything radically new. Traveling is a means to see family, get things done, and sometimes to discover myself. Joy maybe, excitement few and far between.
This fall, I continue my PhD study as a 3rd year student. A few days ago I concluded my summer trips to come home to Bloomington for the start of the fall semester. As I sat on a chair at 6AM waiting for the right time to book an Uber, the summer morning light was already turning quite bright. I suddenly felt the it–the feeling that got to my head as a child every pre-departure night. In a day I will see people in the department again. I get to carry on my inquiries and to see where it takes me. I get to push my research questions to directions yet unknown. I was excited to start my 3rd year of PhD study just like the ten year-old too excited to sleep. It is a magical feeling to be had this many years as a cynical adult. I am paid to do what I am excited to do—I must be the luckiest person in the world.
p.s. Cover picture is taken this summer at Ryoan-Ji in Kyoto. The inscription on the stone reportedly says “ware tada taru shiru” (吾唯足知), a Zen buddhist phrase that translates poetically to “I learn only to be satisfied” or “I know only enough”.
Written by Natasha. Last edited:2025-08-30 19:01:43