My life began on the road, traveling from sea to lake to gulf to ocean, searching for the best wind with my windsurfing parents.  I spent my childhood camping on the coast of Texas and building sandcastles in North Carolina, and most of my time was spent with my parents’ windsurfing friends.  The Search for Wind colored my life, giving me access to the black sand beaches of Hawaii, the purple jellyfish-infested water of Nova Scotia, and the coasts of Okinawa where old ladies harvested sea urchins for their green insides.

I know I am blessed, not only only for these experiences, but for the constantly reinforced idea that travel is not a luxury, it’s something that anyone can do as long as there is passion involved.

Writing became my personal passion and, although I have never traveled solely for the sake of writing, I have always combined the two.  And through these two passions, I have discovered others that continually shape the course of my life.

In Mokhotlong, Lesotho, feeding and playing with the babies at Touching Tiny Lives orphanage, even as some of them were dying from AIDS and tuberculosis, I discovered my passion for bringing joy (even momentarily) to others’ lives.  In Buenos Aires, discovering beauty in a–only superficially–dirty city, I realized my passion for learning to see things with new eyes.  On a ferry traveling up Lake Malawi, I learned of my passion for dancing.  And in Costa Rica, serving breakfast at El Nidito Guesthouse, I discovered my passion for creating a home for others.

So maybe the road IS life, for some at least.  But, for me, that life doesn’t exist without experiencing the lives of those along the road.  And I believe that learning from those people, absorbing their energy and giving back ten-fold, puts us one step closer to being a true citizen of the world.