We’ve been to 5 continents and 23 countries. We’ve been on dozens of buses and visited countless churches and temples. We’ve experienced cultures that are both similar and very different from our own. We’ve hung out in cities, hiked in national parks, and laid on beaches. We’ve learned about histories of genocide, war, and reconciliation. And now we’re going home.

When I reflect on how I’m different, the ways this year has changed me, I come back to several quotes that I have spent considerable time dwelling on this year. Each has been my guide at different times, and to different depths, in my exploration of self and our world.

“A calm mind is an aesthetically appreciative mind.” -Robert Wright

Traveling for an entire year gave me space to find my calm mind. I think I’d only ever previously found it for moments at a time, maybe a weekend. But to completely disconnect from the heavy weight of western professional life (i.e. not having a job) allowed me to wake up with a calm mind and carry it through my days.

I came to perceive the world around me in a new way—the world outside my own thoughts. I began to notice the shop-keeper’s smile and the sounds of birds in the city park. The time strangers were willing to give and the way children play. And I started to understand how a cluttered and busy mind can close the doors to this daily beauty.

“The sudden passionate happiness which the natural world can occasionally trigger in us, may well be the most serious business of all.” -Michael McCarthy

I’ve grown up surrounded by natural beauty but always considered myself an indoor observer. There were several moments this year where I was struck by the natural beauty of our world in a way I’d never been struck before. A “sudden passionate happiness” was “triggered” inside me and left me laughing or crying or both.

Perhaps it was the combination of a calmer mind and seeing some of the most incredible natural wonders our planet offers us, but I felt a new and profound connection to our earth. And in these moments I caught a glimpse of why this might be the most “serious business of all,” because our connection to the natural world is deeper than I’d ever known.

“We are pressed to produce and achieve in a way that is almost violent at times.” -Stephen Batchelor

Fully separating myself from work has been as instructive as anything that has replaced it. I’ve never been so aware of how the western world has formed me. I am its child, reared since my first report card was sent home at age five, through residency in a medical system where success is measured by devotion.

My time away has revealed the violence of the world I left. Violence might sound extreme, but the difficulty I’ve had connecting with my soul in this context is telling. The blanket of constant stress, of pagers and perfection, is smothering. And that blanket was lifted this year. I slept well. I thought clearly. And I felt empathy.

“Be simple and easy” – Maninja G Meditation instructor

I started meditating several years ago but never seriously. I can hardly call myself serious, even now, but I’ve been meditating more than I ever have before. It is all the rage (did I say I’m doing yoga too?) but it is amazing. My success, however limited, cultivating a calm mind and equanimity in my daily life is owed to meditation.

I love the idea of being simple and easy. Our world feels anything but right now. And one thing this year was not was a disengaging from the daily machinations of broader geo-political humanity. To the contrary. I feel more deeply informed about the oppressive forces we apply to each other than ever before.

But it is my reaction to these painful truths that can be different. Do I know my own emotions and have control of them? Can I cultivate a sense of equanimity, or non-reactivity, in the face of difficult circumstances? Meditation and a focus on being simple and easy have been powerful tools in this pursuit.

“Since death alone is certain, and the time of death uncertain, what should I do?” – Stephen Batchelor

No quote has embodied my year more than this one. Early in our year I worried I wasn’t doing enough while eating banh mi in Vietnam or riding camels in the Sahara. As I thought to the future, I knew that I would be engaged in struggle on behalf of the oppressed, whether it be from disease and poverty in rural Ghana, to racism and misogyny in the US, but what was I doing about it now?

As I reflected on my place alongside the certainty of death, I came to realize that understanding myself with the moment I have before me, the only one I am guaranteed, is essential to the human experience. It is far from a waste. To the contrary, it is the foundation. Every day we woke up on the road I knew, deep down inside, that this year of travel was exactly what I should be doing.