As far as gap years go I was a late bloomer in filling up my backpack. And like every drifter with a dream the adrenaline of altitude shot through my veins stronger than a hit of smack. The tempting vices of an open passport, foreign port of calls and wild cultures left me in an intoxicating high of wanderlust debacuhery. Sobering up after an overdose of down under I knew there was no turning back.

My name is Nicole and I’ve been a travel addict since 2010. Nothing replaces the feeling I get when living on the edge of my comfort zone. Nothing scares me more than straying from that edge into the sobering confines of convention. Routine torments me, withdrawal symptoms from an unknown destination hyperventilating my heart. Depression settling in I need to make a score with my travel dealer. I need a dose of that elusive yellow brick drug.

I need to go in order to grow. I need to get lost in order to be found.  I need that high in order to touch down.

It took a long walk of contemplation through a garden sanctuary for me to admit I have an addiction, to acknowledge my temptation to increase my consumption of altitude. In a not so anonymous manner I confessed all of this to a traveling companion who in turn confided her own inhibitions. We digressed with no particular direction, a little unsure as to our exact destination. As the dialogue unintentionally dissipated I said aloud to her, “If I get lost then you get lost with me.”

To which she wistfully sang, “And if we’re lost, oh, then we are lost together.”

As she strolled ahead the lyrics wondrously strummed in my mind like a wild blue rodeo stampeding forward. With my mental serenade ending a euphoric epiphany waved over me: I’m not traveling alone. Sure, in between destinations I am but upon my arrival there is always someone there to accept me with open arms; someone cursed by their own vices; guided by their own virtues. Someone who is very much like me, a compass without a northern star, who is willing to get lost, together.

Strange and beautiful
Are the stars tonight
That dance around your head
In your eyes I see that perfect world
I hope that doesn’t sound too weird

And I want all the world to know
That your love’s all I need
All that I need
And if we’re lost
Then we are lost together
Yea if we’re lost
Then we are lost together

I stand before this faceless crowd
And I wonder why I bother
So much controlled by so few
Stumbling from one disaster to another

I’ve heard it all so many times before
It’s all a dream to me now
A dream to me now
And if we’re lost
Then we are lost together
Yea if we’re lost
Then we are lost together

In the silence of this whispered night
I listen only to your breath
And that second of a shooting star
Somehow it all makes sense

And I want all the world to know
That your love’s all I need
All that I need
And if we’re lost
Then we are lost together
Yea if we’re lost
Then we are lost together

-“Lost Together” by Blue Rodeo

The best therapy for a nomadic soul like me is to ramble relentlessly, dream dangerously. Blessed I am to have fellow vagabonds escort me to the edge, wanderlust darlings who won’t let me jump alone. As I learned on my first trip five moons ago you have to falter before you can fly. You have to let go and lose yourself in that faceless crowd.

Sanctuary for me isn’t built out of bricks and mortar. It is taking refuge in relationships; connecting with people. Similarly, contemplation for me isn’t found as much in meditative silence as it is in deep and meaningful conversations with brilliantly beautiful minds.

I’ve been around this world before and I’ve definitely heard it all so many times before but as it turns out I will always find a way to come home again; whether it be right here or over there.

For even if tripping out on the yellow brick is the long way round I will find my way back because your love—not the drug– is all I need.