I travel quite a bit.

Hear the quiet yet profound words of Sharmila Tagore, who said: “I travel quite a bit.” At first, the saying appears simple, as though spoken casually in passing. Yet within its modest form lies an ancient truth: that the act of journeying, of leaving the known and walking into the unknown, is itself a sacred practice. For the one who travels not only changes place, but also transforms the spirit, gathering wisdom from each horizon and carrying the world within themselves.

To say, “I travel,” is to confess a devotion to movement, to discovery, to growth. Life itself is a journey, and each voyage across cities and nations mirrors the inner voyage of the soul. In the east, the sages taught that man is but a pilgrim, passing through many lives and many lands, gathering lessons as pearls upon a string. To travel is not merely to pass from one station to another, but to live more deeply, to breathe the air of many worlds, and to awaken to the vastness of existence.

The greatest journeys in history have always carried with them more than mere geography. Consider the travels of Fa Hsien, the Chinese monk who journeyed through India in search of sacred texts. His wanderings gave the world a record of faith and culture, of lands and peoples beyond his own. Or think of Ibn Battuta, who wandered farther than any of his time, crossing deserts and oceans, meeting kings and hermits, recording for future generations the breadth of the human experience. In their words, as in Tagore’s, travel becomes a bridge that binds the self to the great fabric of humanity.

To travel “quite a bit” also means to embrace impermanence. Each journey is a farewell—to the comfort of home, to the familiar faces, to the rhythm of daily life. And yet each farewell is a birth, for new paths open, new companions appear, new lessons arrive. The traveler learns early that life is not a thing to be clutched, but a river to be crossed again and again. Sharmila Tagore, in her gentle words, affirms this rhythm: that the heart grows stronger and wiser when it learns to let go and step forward.

There is also humility in the phrase. She does not boast of the miles, nor list the places, nor proclaim conquest of the world. She simply states the truth of movement: “I travel quite a bit.” This humility itself is a teaching. For travel is not about the ego’s glory, but about the soul’s expansion. The greatest journeys are not measured in miles, but in the depth of understanding carried back.

The meaning, then, is both personal and universal. Personally, it speaks of a life enriched by new experiences, by encounters with different lands and cultures. Universally, it teaches that all humans are travelers—whether across lands, across years, or across the very stages of life. To embrace travel is to embrace the truth that change is constant, and that wisdom lies not in clinging to one place, but in learning from many.

The lesson for us is clear: make travel a part of your journey, whether outward or inward. Step beyond the walls of your comfort. Walk new roads, taste new foods, listen to unfamiliar tongues, and let your soul be broadened by the world’s variety. But also remember: the truest travel is not always across seas, but sometimes across the barriers within yourself. Seek new perspectives, new wisdom, new courage. For to travel, in the deepest sense, is to live.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, remember the teaching of Sharmila Tagore: let your life be a journey rich with steps and sights. Travel often, travel deeply, and let each journey, however small, become a lesson etched into your being. For in the end, those who travel “quite a bit” do not merely see the world—they become part of its eternal story.