Hello Dear NextTriber:

I was in India when the furor erupted in Minneapolis. Calling Jeannie Edmunds from a beautiful inn in the Western Ghat Mountains, I asked her about the tumult.

"You're better off there," she said bluntly.

That stopped me. Was I? Was it OK that I was away from a country that was roiling, that I was enjoying myself, floating on peaceful waterways and viewing soaring sunrises from a mountaintop?

I have spent much time contemplating this question.

I’ve come to the conclusion that taking care of yourself and traveling, if you can, is sustenance for the long haul. It's insisting that I will not be deterred from living my life—especially when, at this age, I don't have enough of it left to waste.

I say this knowing I'm fortunate to have a choice. Not everyone does. I don't worry that my children or I will be torn from our homes and communities. That privilege is not lost on me.

Still, I've found that travel provides an essential gift right now: it reminds us that people are basically good, that they've risen up against injustice before, and that the current push to destroy and divide is the aberration, not the norm.

During the two weeks in India, our group spoke with a college professor about The Covenant of Water—a novel that spans India's struggle to shed its colonial masters and forge its own path. She talked about the ongoing fight against the caste system. In Kerala, we saw Muslims, Hindus, and Christians living side by side, seemingly without rancor, in community after community.

We connected with generous-hearted people who had little but gave freely. People who demonstrated resilience and faith in ways that put my own anxieties in perspective. I felt like I was stepping back from the cliff, getting a wider view of the world, reminding myself that—as Martin Luther King Jr. said—"The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice."

And something else happened that I didn't expect.

Halfway through our trip, our guide Ash—a wonderful, energetic woman—confessed that she hadn't been sure what to expect from ten relatively prosperous American women. But when we visited a school for children with disabilities, she says she learned who we really were.

The school is part of a larger compound that includes a respected textile workshop staffed by young adults with disabilities. We made batik scarves alongside these workers and shopped in their beautiful store. (The work is so admired that designers like Eileen Fisher use it.)

After the workshop, we visited the school. The children had prepared a dance for us—not a traditional dance, but a straight-out modern line dance. "You can go up there," Ash suggested. Without hesitation, we did (anyone who has traveled with me knows I’m always down with getting down). We slipped in behind the first row of dancers, watched their moves, and shimmied and laughed along with the kids.

"That's when I knew you were good people," Ash told us later. "That's when I fell in love with you." The feelings were mutual.

We showed her—and ourselves—that we are not our government. We are not the hard-hearted stereotypes Americans are often perceived to be.

This is what NextTribe trips do everywhere we go: we support local women by visiting their businesses, learning about their lives, shopping at women's cooperatives. Our money, our attention, our listening to their stories boosts them and us. Our knowledge of and compassion for the rest of the world expands.

White Eagle, a Hopi elder, posted something on social media that has stayed with me: "This moment humanity is going through can now be seen as a portal and as a hole. The decision to fall into the hole or go through the portal is up to you. If you consume news 24 hours a day, with little energy, nervous all the time, with pessimism, you fall into the hole. But if you take this opportunity to look at yourself, rethink life and death, take care of yourself and others, you will cross the portal."

I choose to go through the portal afforded me by travel. Not with guilt or blinders, but as a way to take care of myself, connect with others, and gain the perspective and inspiration I need for the slog ahead.

My two weeks in India restored not only my energy to cope but also my belief that transformation is possible. That connection across difference is achievable. That we can show up as our best selves even when—especially when—our country is struggling to do the same.

So yes, I was better off in India, and I suspect I’ll be better off in Ecuador next month. If travel feeds your soul the way it does mine, I believe venturing forth now is a blessing and a boost.

I'd love to hear how you're thinking about travel these days. What are your hoping for? What are your hesitations? Please share your thoughts with us here.

 Cheers and hugs—

Jeannie Ralston
Founder and CEO

P.S. To learn more about the India trip—which we’ll be repeating next year—join us and the women who traveled with us in January at an India After Party via Zoom, Thursday, Feb. 6th. RSVP here.

All Trip Previews at 6:30 pm ET. (unless otherwise noted)

Someone at each Zoom event will win a $400 discount in a random drawing.

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