I find that there is something inherently profound about traveling. The act of making a journey, of moving from point A to B is in itself a wonderful experience, at least in my eyes.

Part of that fun lies in the mode of transportation. For some unknown reason, I find a real enjoyment at airports. Of course, I’m pestered by the relentless rules and security as everyone else is, but once the chaos is survived, another feeling comes over me. I am endlessly excited about the excursion ahead – the promise of a new experience in a new locale.

Whenever I am on a plane – before I’ve fallen asleep – I find myself staring out of the window (I always get the window seat), deep in thought. Thinking about where I’ve been in life and where I could go, about my desires to see the country and world and the concept of travel in general. I know, heavy stuff for a trip or vacation, but it happens nonetheless. I always, without fail, stare out that window and onto the ocean of clouds below. And, as the wispy white clusters pass by, I sit and think.

This past week, while I was on spring break, I took a train from Boston to D.C. The eight-hour ride was my first train adventure. Yet, the same instance occurred. Again, I sat next to the window; this time, I stared out at the landscape rushing by – the trees, the homes, and the cities. What I think about the most is my future: a time where I’ll, hopefully, be traveling on my own – seeing the world.

Art has a very similar impact on me. They both have the ability to infuse me with an overwhelming sensation – as if I’m witnessing and feeling things too beautiful to fully handle. What I feel when I travel, staring out those windows, is just like what I experience when I’m before a Mark Rothko painting.

This past week, I’ve seen nearly a dozen Rothko paintings before my own eyes.  And while these works of the abstract expressionist may not seem more than mere blocks of color to many people, I take a notable comfort in the large canvases.  Rothko’s intention with his work never failed to reach me – I don’t sit and stare in an attempt to find a higher meaning, to dissect his work in order to find a commentary.  Instead, I let the colors engulf me. That sounds strange, right? But it’s calming. I know that when things force you to confront truths or the like, it’s scary. Of course it’s scary. However, at some point you reach a comfortable juncture in life where it’s as natural as breathing.

So my words of wisdom from my week of city adventures are borrowed from a wise high school teacher: “Feel your life.”

While this may be a scary and unsure feat to face, believe me . . . it’s worth it every time.

Krissen Kawachi is a freshman in the College of Arts and Sciences and a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at  [email protected].