I travel a ridiculous amount, so I've thought a lot about, and

Hear the words of David Pogue, who declared: “I travel a ridiculous amount, so I've thought a lot about, and spent a lot of time refining, what I carry and how I carry it.” At first, these words appear to be the musings of a man often on the road, concerned with luggage and efficiency. Yet when pondered with a deeper mind, they resound with ancient wisdom: for the art of travel is not only in the places we go, but in the discipline of what we choose to bear with us. Life itself is a journey, and each of us is judged not by how far we walk, but by what we carry along the way.

The act of travel is always a mirror of the soul. Those who burden themselves with excess soon stumble, but those who carry lightly move swiftly and with grace. Pogue, in refining what he carries, is not merely adjusting a suitcase—he is teaching the timeless art of discernment. To refine is to sift, to test, to strip away the unnecessary until only what is essential remains. Such is the work not only of the traveler, but of every seeker of wisdom.

The ancients understood this. Consider the journey of Diogenes, the philosopher who abandoned wealth and lived with almost nothing. Once, seeing a boy drink water with his hands, he cast away even his cup, realizing it was not essential. His life became a parable of carrying lightly, of discarding what weighs down the spirit. David Pogue, though a traveler of the modern world, echoes this ancient lesson: that in refining what we carry, we refine ourselves.

The phrase “what I carry and how I carry it” is profound. For it is not only the contents of our burdens that matter, but the manner in which we bear them. Two men may face the same weight—one staggers and curses, the other shoulders it with calm strength. Thus, in life, we cannot always choose our load, but we may always choose our way of carrying. To refine “how” we carry is to cultivate patience, endurance, and dignity, even in difficulty.

History shows this in the story of Ernest Shackleton and his men, stranded in the Antarctic ice. They carried almost nothing with them—forced to abandon books, instruments, even personal treasures. Yet they chose to carry hope, discipline, and loyalty to one another. It was not what they carried in their hands that saved them, but what they carried in their spirits. And by refining their burdens, they survived the impossible.

So too in our daily lives. We may travel “a ridiculous amount,” whether across the world, or simply through the many seasons of our years. Each day asks us: what will you carry? Will you cling to bitterness, or will you carry forgiveness? Will you load yourself with endless possessions, or will you travel lightly with wisdom, courage, and kindness? The choice is ours, and it must be refined again and again, just as Pogue refines his own load for the journey.

The lesson is clear: be intentional with your burdens. Refine them constantly. Do not walk through life carrying what is useless or harmful. Choose only what sustains you, what strengthens you, what uplifts your soul and the souls of those beside you. Practically, this means learning to let go—of clutter, of resentment, of habits that weigh you down—and embracing simplicity, clarity, and purpose. For the road is long, and the lighter you travel, the further you will go.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, remember the counsel hidden in these simple words of David Pogue. Travel you must, for life allows no stillness. But let your art be this: to refine what you carry, and to learn how to carry it well. For in this discipline lies freedom, in this wisdom lies endurance, and in this practice lies the secret of reaching your journey’s true end in peace.