Inspiration: “The True and the Questions” and “A Year in Japan”

These cold, rainy days are perfect for one of two things: not leaving bed all day; or escaping to an independent bookstore, with all the time in the world to comb the shelves for travel inspiration. Fortunately, I recently found myself doing the latter.

I found Sabrina Ward Harrison’s “The True and the Questions: A Journal.” Not really the type to be pidgeonholed, the colorful book is part journal, part inspiration, part other musings. Although it wouldn’t be shelved in the travel section, it touches on the subject—in the ‘bravery’ chapter, of course. Sabrina’s own thoughts:

“To be afraid and leap regardless. There is such power in that. To live into the questions of our lives, when nothing feels clear. We have this chance to do absolutely anything…We must show up for our own life. Be brave. Be messy. Be loved. Be strong. Trust yourself.”

She quotes Kent Nerburn’s “Letters to My Son”:

“That is why we need to travel. If we don’t offer ourself to the unknown, our senses dull. Our world becomes small and we lose our sense of wonder. Our eyes don’t lift to the horizon; our ears don’t hear the sounds around us. The edge is off our experience, and we pass our days in a routine that is both comfortable and limiting. We wake up one day and find that we have lost our dreams in order to protect our days.”

And that’s where the journaling comes in. Sabrina starts it off for us, with:

“The bravest moments in my life…”
“I really want to explore…”
“I must create a life that is filled with…”

Of course, the travel section of the bookstore couldn’t go untouched. That’s where I found “A Year in Japan.” No, no—it has none of the lengthy essays that make it a better read for the beach than a bookstore. Actually, the playful watercolors are what drew me in. As both illustrator and author, Kate T. Williamson pulled inspiration for the book from her time studying in Kyoto for a year during a postgraduate fellowship.

The impressions that she scatters around her watercolors are brief and unassuming, but memorable. From the benign—”bananas often come sealed in a plastic bag”—to something more personal and moment-capturing—”There was something startling about seeing sumo wrestlers in the traditional yukata (cotton kimono) and geta (wooden clogs), wearing headphones, making withdrawals at ATMs, riding the subway, and once, drinking strawberry milk after a match.”

It doesn’t try to be a comprehensive book on Kyoto or Japan. But it has heart, and I think it’s reflective of the way that we process travel—in meaningful details.