My other self

The longest journey is inward

This post was originally written by us in another language [here]. This English version was translated with Google Translate and lightly reviewed.

I feel that several versions of myself reside within me. They aren’t just different facets of my personality; sometimes I feel that each one even possesses a will of its own.

It’s not a multiple identity, but something more subtle. Depending on the occasion, the place, or the activity, these versions take turns, as if each one were waiting for the exact moment to seize control.

One of them, for example, appears whenever I decide to travel. It’s a version that doesn’t know procrastination, that becomes adventurous, tireless, capable of covering long distances without complaint. A version that isn’t me… and yet, at the same time, it is.

I think this happens to many of us. When we travel, qualities that remain dormant in daily life awaken; we become more curious, more attentive, more respectful. We are punctual, patient, even better citizens. It’s as if travel activates a part of us that, at home, rarely finds space to exist.

But upon returning from the trip, that version begins to fade away. Sometimes it clings on for a couple of days, resisting like someone who doesn’t want to return to the shadows. However, sooner or later it ends up tucked away in some drawer, waiting for the next trip to peek out again.

However, there are people who seem to live permanently from that more enlightened version. As if for them the world were always a new territory, a map to discover. They walk with an inexhaustible curiosity, relating to others with an openness that many of us only develop when we’re far from home. They seem to move with a different kind of lightness, as if they’ve managed to integrate that traveler’s energy into their daily lives.

And it’s not that one way of living is better than the other. It’s simply always been an enigma to me: why does that version of myself only awaken when I change scenery? Why does it need movement, distance, travel to exist?

Perhaps, after all, it’s not about choosing one version or forcing any to remain.

Perhaps the true journey lies in learning to recognize them, in inviting them to coexist without waiting for a change of scenery to awaken them. Perhaps the challenge is to bring home that curiosity, that presence, that clarity we believe is exclusive to distant paths.

Because, in the end, traveling doesn’t always mean moving across a map. Sometimes the longest journey is inward, daring to inhabit the best version of ourselves even in the most familiar places. And perhaps, if we achieve that, we’ll discover that we don’t need to wait for the next destination to feel alive, to feel we’re growing, to feel we’re still moving forward.