Tag: England

Explore Your Worlds: What it means and why it matters

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Explore Your Worlds: Cotswolds architecture in Bradford-on-Avon

Explore your worlds, not just the world

I’ve spent a lot of my life exploring the world. Then, several years ago, I realized that for everything I’d seen, there was so much I hadn’t simply because I couldn’t.

Some of the most important elements of life – love, hope and our deepest yearnings, for example – aren’t visible. In the pursuit of witnessing all I could from the world around me, I’d neglected the world within me. I’d seen great sights, but hadn’t fully brought my interior life – that invisible world of emotions, longings, creative interests and purpose – into the mix. But when I started to explore both of my worlds – the one around me and the one within me – everything changed. Travel took on greater meaning, purpose and joy while life back at home started to feel more like a great trip.

Exploring your worlds happens best when you not only explore your worlds, but you connect them and in so doing, derive the greatest pleasure from both. Let me give you an example from a recent trip to England of what it means to explore and connect your worlds.

Connecting your worlds

My wife and I were flitting about the Cotswolds region, exploring villages and vales. We’d seen plenty of old churches, shops and other architectural examples. For all the pleasure in beholding them, after several days, they started to look alike. With no real understanding of the history, cultural significance or making of the place, I only connected to it superficially.

Then one day, while visiting the small town of Corsham, not far from Bath, it started to rain. We ducked into a nearby bookstore and quickly forgot all about the showers outside. While glancing through the shelves, one book stood out: Rice’s Architectural Primer. For reasons I didn’t understand at the time, I had to have this book.

Explore Your Worlds - Cover of Rice's Architectural Primer

Initially, I was attracted to the whimsical illustrations (you don’t have to be a kid to appreciate a book filled with pictures). These were watercolors showing various buildings throughout English history and the architectural styles they represented. Pages revealed whole buildings and discrete architectural details along with their names.

Later, after the rain ended and we headed back to our B&B, I spent a few hours going through the book. Even this quick perusal equipped me to “read” a building, its elements and the story they tell. I remembered then — not for the first or last time — that understanding something, even to a small degree, increases your enjoyment of it.

That proved true the next morning in the village of Lacock when we attended St. Cyriac’s, a small parish church dating back to the 14th century. As we sat through a wonderful service and later were given a tour by one of the friendly ushers, I experienced the breathtaking joy of both exploring and connecting my worlds.

Explore Your Worlds - Lacock street and St. Cyriac's church

Explore with both your head and your heart

Even my brief exposure to Rice’s Primer enabled me to have a completely different conversation with the architecture of that church. I beheld stone joints, posts and windows similar to what we’d seen elsewhere. But now, each of them had a name: crockets, finials, spandrels, tie beams, cuspings, imposts and mullians. There’s something almost mystical about the personalizing power of knowing a name and what it does to change how you identify with someone or something. My relationship with the place changed because I not only saw it anew, I experienced it on a different level. There in that church, my love for books (and the specific one acquired the day before), connected with what I’d learned from that book and was now applying to the stone, stained glass and wood around me. This was more than learning. It was a shift in relating. And with that came an inexplicable joy because I was not just seeing this place in a new way, I was a different person because of it.

Explore Your Worlds - Cover of Rice's Architectural Primer

Why it matters to explore your worlds

Exploring your worlds and making these generative connections isn’t just a better way to travel. It’s about seeing in a different way by exploring in a different way which leads to more meaningful discoveries and, ultimately, a better way to live. It feels like Dorothy, landing in Oz and walking out of her small, black-and-white house into a Technicolor universe. Such moments and connections can be astounding and they are available to us far more than we realize.

Join me back here in the coming weeks as we scout out different — and often surprising — ways to explore your worlds so that you can get the best out of each trip…and each day.

 

Finding passion in unlikely places

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Passion doesn’t always arrive in the ways you expect.

After a day touring through quaint villages and lonely byways of England’s Cotswolds region, we were ready for a relaxing evening at our inn, The Village Pub in Barnsley. Yet as we turned into the inn’s parking lot, we had to negotiate our way around an unfamiliar object.Finding passion - steam engine

There, in splendid redness on the side of the road, amidst the low rumble of its engine and the vapor spewing from multiple vents and seams sat a steam engine. The image above will explain far better than I can. Apart from museums or books, I’d never beheld such a machine before, at least on this scale.

Finding passion - Steam engine and trailerWhen I was a kid, I dreamed of making a model steam engine, but even though the versions I saw were far less ambitious than this one (the models were stationary and about six inches long), the cost and complexity exceeded my paper route income and tween metalworking skills. I was fascinated then by the very elements that made this behemoth so wondrous: intricate metal parts and fittings combined with the heft of huge iron and steel components. Each rear wheel likely weighed more than my car.

Finding passion - Chris LarsonI approached the man clamoring over the vehicle and, unable to articulate any coherent specific question, said simply, “Tell me the story here.” He came over, arms and hands blackened with grease.

His name was Chris Larson. He and his wife, who was busy talking to an inquisitive server from the inn, were on their way to a steam festival down the road. They’d stopped at the inn for dinner since at four miles per hour, theirs had been a long journey from central Dorset county. It was a drive I would make in 90 minutes the next day but one that had taken them most of two days to accomplish.

When he mentioned a steam festival, my naive response was, “You mean there are more of these machines out there?” Indeed, there are. Over a hundred steam engines would be at this festival and there were dozens of these festivals across the country. An entire sub-culture of steam engine enthusiasts existed.

Finding passion - view from driver's seatChris invited me up into the driver’s area. We had to use a ladder propped against the rear wheel to do this. He showed me how he fed coal into the furnace and explained how he’d made this giant beast of a vehicle practically from scratch. He whipped out his phone (a rather anachronistic moment standing in a century-old vehicle using a 21st century mobile device) and showed me photos of the initial pieces he’d bought: part of the engine block, elements of a wheel and a few other odds and ends. My guess is that all of those original components amounted to at best 20-30% of this final vehicle. That meant he’d machined, forged, manufactured, scavenged and assembled all the rest on his own. Amazing.

Eventually, I had to let him go dine with his wife. I wondered how he was going to clean up those greasy arms for the rather upscale pub dining room. But the two of them ate outside on the patio and I left them to enjoy their meal in private.

Finding passion - front of engineFinding passion - engine lampBesides the marvel of encountering something so unexpected, seeing Chris’s steam engine and all the associations, memories and nostalgic longings it evoked made me realize something.

Chris had found his passion. He’d dedicated untold hours and a good deal of expense, I’m sure, in building that steam engine. Now, as he tours the various steam festivals, he can show off his work to wonder-eyed kids of all ages – like me. He’s able to connect with others who share that passion or are awakened to one they never realized they had. He, in short, lives in a world consumed by what brings him joy.

Before we turned into the inn’s parking lot, I didn’t know that any such steam engines still existed, especially in such great working order. So it makes me wonder: What else might be out there that grabs my heart? My passion? I’m not planning on building my own steam engine any time soon. But it delights me to know there are others that are.

It brings me a deep sense of gladness to realize this world is filled with people who do follow their dreams. Who take their passion seriously. Who tackle seemingly insurmountable challenges to bring to life what others don’t even imagine as possible. Who then find similar dreamers and doers who support, encourage and help them to carry on.

Finding passion - engine detailsI’m inspired to build, to make, to create. I’m not sure what it will be yet. But like that moment when I first saw Chris’s steam engine, I expect it will come on almost like magic.