“It seems that the more places I see and experience, the bigger I realise the world to be. The more I become aware of, the more I realise how relatively little I know of it, how many places I have still to go, how much more there is to learn. Maybe that’s enlightenment enough: to know that there is no final resting place of the mind; no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom is realising how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go.”

– Anthony Bourdain.

It has taken me a while to formulate coherent thoughts beyond disappointment and anguish in the wake of Anthony Bourdain’s suicide. I knew I wanted to write something, to put into words the importance of his role in my life’s trajectory and on our perception of culture as a whole, but I had to get past feeling really god damn sad before I could put those words together.

Our world unfortunately doesn’t possess many prominent public figures who prioritise artistry, travel, and the exploration of distinct cultures in the meaningful and elegant way in which Bourdain did. And if I didn’t believe such priorities were valid and of utmost consequence to future generations, perhaps I wouldn’t have found his work to be so impactful. Perhaps I wouldn’t have thought that what he did was revolutionary. Perhaps I wouldn’t aspire to do the same.

The way Anthony Bourdain traveled was meticulous, it was thoughtful. He used the medium of cinematography and writing to convey sentiments both heartbreaking and hilarious, poignant and divine. He chose words with the prudent grace and eloquence of Hemingway, shot scenes in breathtaking locations with deliberate style, and he ate food and conversed among strangers around the world with all the sage empathy and curiosity we might desire of a friend.

He traveled purposefully, with intention, unlike the way we tend to “vacation” in order to escape our humdrum lives. He traveled not to elude life’s tribulations, but to explore them. To arrive on their shores, luggage heavy with questions and open-mindedness. To understand. That is how we all must travel, how we all must seek adventure.

In our quest through this life– because I do believe each one of us, regardless of where we stand in the tumult, is on a momentous quest of incomparable design– we strive to find value and meaning. Without the acquisition of such insights in our seemingly arbitrary existence, we begin to float mindlessly through a tremendously confusing and potentially disturbing world, allowing misunderstanding and trivialities to dictate our perceptions. We hurt ourselves without intention, in ways that dig us into holes of our own making, standing resolutely and stubbornly behind opaque walls.

And Anthony Bourdain was like, fuck that.

Traveling with intention in the way that Bourdain chose is not exclusively pleasant. Of course it isn’t– expecting to meander through different parts of the world only to have your own set of convictions confirmed is ignorant, because the reality is that your personal beliefs are not a point of reference for the rest of humanity. We believe different things in different domains because we live different lives, eat different foods, interact with different cultures and people, and endure different hardships. This is not to say one is better or worse than another, but rather that such differences can be explored with empathy and fairness rather than hostility, bias, or apathy.

Sometimes, traveling this way will cause sorrow. Discomfort. Grief. Pain. It will stretch you and haunt you and weigh heavy on your mind, just as it will titillate you, inspire you, cultivate you.

“As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life —  and travel — leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks — on your body or on your heart — are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt.”

Bourdain said it well, as he did of most things. Travel will disrupt your perception of the world, but it will make you understand a bit more about what you do not. I know this to be true above all else; before moving to another country, before my interest in experiencing the unknown reached a certain height, I was comfortable believing I knew plenty about human beings, about right and wrong. My town was an all-encompassing organism of its own, fuelling young minds to give credence to prevailing ideology, to believe what their parents believe, to desire what their peers desire.

I saw my surroundings in shades of black and white. Simply. This or that, good or bad, mean or nice.

But every story, every city, every person, comes in shades of grey. There are nuances we may never acknowledge if we do not step closer, squint our eyes, and allow ourselves to be rocked into awareness. We must take the leap to realise, as Bourdain so beautifully elucidated, that there is no final resting place of the mind. We will only obtain nuggets of wisdom in our realisation of how little we know, and how much we have yet to see.

It may sound hyperbolic to say that the world has lost one of its greatest minds to date, but I stand behind the statement with wholehearted conviction. Anthony Bourdain was one of our greatest– he built bridges, crossed them unwaveringly, and made it look damn cool to do so.

“Your body is not a temple, it’s an amusement park. Enjoy the ride.”