JANUARY 4, 2026 — As I do at the beginning of every year, I have been sitting in my study this Sunday afternoon, trying to conjure some coherent goals to guide my travels in the year to come, a kind of resolution roadmap for 2026.

Outside, the weather has surged from black clouds to squalling rain to dazzling sun, and inside, my brain has been equally wild. First I found myself peering down a murky tunnel thinking about the tempestuous state of the planet, and the dangers that darken the path ahead. Then my thoughts leaped into a brilliantly cloudless sky as I recalled the soul-soaring wonders of my own journeys this past year and the anticipated exhilarations of the adventures to come.

Holding the Future in Your Arms

As my mind swung between these, frustrating all efforts to conceive any cogent tips, I realized that I was being drawn ineluctably to something else, something much more present and palpable: the memory of a late-night trek I had made around my daughter’s Santa Barbara living room one week ago, cradling my new granddaughter, five-week-old Evie, in my arms, as she alternated between snoozing sighs and sudden cries.

Reliving this bouncing-and-patting pilgrimage led to an unexpected epiphany: It is one thing to ponder and prognosticate about the planet in the sedentary solitude of your study, and it is an entirely different thing to wander around your daughter’s living room in the middle of the night, holding your new granddaughter, this utterly miraculous and helpless bundle of brains, nerves, organs, and bones, bonded by blood and love to you. Suddenly the meaning of life becomes very clear and very simple — and the fragile vessel we call Earth becomes newly, infinitely vulnerable and precious too.

When the World Becomes Precious

Swaddled in this memory, I’ve re-realized what my deepest dreams are for this and every year: I want peace on our planet so that Evie, her four-year-old sister Mia, and grandchildren everywhere can grow up and discover themselves and the world freely without the threat of war; I want friendship among all peoples so that they can experience and embrace the globe's grand diversities; I want environmental preservation so that they can savor all the natural wonders I have known — the intricate wilds of mountain and prairie, forest and desert; I want social sustainability based on mutual respect, dignity, justice, and kindness, so that they can widely enter and explore a world community that is prospering and growing together.

Travel as a Compass for Peace and Connection

And I’ve realized anew that for me travel is the compass and the tool to reach these goals: Travel teaches us about traditions and tolerance; it teaches us about history and continuity; it teaches us about artistic creation and aesthetic ambition; it teaches us about the myriad differences — in nature, culture, and humanity — that enrich the global mosaic, and about the importance of each and every piece in that mosaic. And ultimately, travel teaches us, on a personal and on a global level, about boundaries and boundlessness, and about the persistence, potential, and power of love.

A Resolution to Tilt the World Toward the Light

Now, enrapt in that late-night living-room memory, I realize that this Evie odyssey has magically conjured the roadmap I was seeking. Suddenly my goals for the coming year have become simple and clear:

I resolve to live to the full my core belief that travel is the best tool we have to pave pathways to peace, build bridges of connection, and illuminate the infinite threads of compassion.

And I resolve as a traveler to tilt the world toward the light, to be an ambassador of respect, goodwill, appreciation, and delight.

As I sit in my study, bouncing and patting precious new Evie and precious old Earth in my mind, I pray that in all our journeys this year, we may find the wisdom, courage, wonder, and love to help them thrive.

Yours in abiding wanderlust,

Don George

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