It is very hard leaving home for life on the road. The toll that

Hear the voice of the wanderer, the artist, the soul divided between duty and belonging—LP—who said: “It is very hard leaving home for life on the road. The toll that it takes is actually immeasurable, and you can think all you want about what it does to your relationships, but the way it actually plays out is very deep and very unique to those personalities that are involved.” These are not the words of complaint, but of truth—truth born of miles traveled and hearts tested. They speak of the sacrifice that lies behind all journeys, whether they be of the body or the spirit, and of the hidden price that every traveler must one day pay.

The origin of this quote lies in the life of those who live by their craft—musicians, poets, soldiers, seekers—those whose path demands that they depart from home in pursuit of calling. For LP, whose art takes them across oceans and continents, this departure is both triumph and torment. The world applauds the stage lights, the applause, the songs that echo in faraway cities—but behind that brilliance lies the silent ache of distance, the yearning for the familiar voice, the quiet hearth, the arms that wait. To leave home is to walk between two worlds: the one that made you, and the one that calls you forward.

This pain is not new. In the ancient tales, even the heroes we worship knew it well. When Odysseus left Ithaca for the war at Troy, he did not know he would wander ten years to return. His battles were not only with monsters and storms, but with the sorrow of separation—from his wife, his son, his very self. The toll was not measured in years alone, but in the hollowing of the heart that distance brings. Yet from that pain came wisdom, and from that wisdom, song. So it is for all who journey—the road both takes and gives, carving the soul into something deeper than comfort can ever shape.

LP speaks of how this toll is “immeasurable,” and indeed it is so. No mathematics can capture the cost of absence. The relationships that once lived in daily rhythm must learn to breathe in silence, to endure the long spaces between meetings, to survive the shifting tides of fame, fatigue, and longing. And though love may endure, it changes shape—it becomes something both fragile and fierce, tested by time and tempered by distance. The ancients called this the price of devotion: to follow a calling is to give something of the heart that may never be returned in the same form.

And yet, there is also beauty in this burden. For those who leave home to create, to serve, or to seek truth, the journey becomes a mirror of the inner world. Every mile reveals not only new lands but new parts of the self. The road strips away pretense, comfort, and distraction, leaving behind only what is essential. The traveler learns that love, when true, is not destroyed by distance—it is refined by it. It transforms from possession into remembrance, from dependence into faith. In this way, the pain of leaving becomes the forge of meaning.

Consider also the poet Rainer Maria Rilke, who wrote letters from his long solitude, urging others to “love the distance” between them, for it allowed each soul to grow large enough to contain the other. He knew, as LP knows, that the artist’s path demands separation—not out of neglect, but necessity. The creation of beauty often requires solitude, and solitude, though lonely, is the womb of wisdom. Thus, the sorrow of departure is not only a wound—it is also a teacher.

From this truth arises a lesson for all who hear: when life calls you away from what you love, do not resist the call—but neither forget what you leave behind. Let your home remain within you, even as your feet walk far from it. Honor those who wait, communicate with honesty, and remember that every journey is shared by more hearts than one. And when the road grows heavy, let gratitude steady your step—for to have something worth missing is one of life’s quiet blessings.

So, children of tomorrow, remember this: leaving home will always cost you, but it will also shape you. The toll of the road is the measure of your growth, and the ache of distance is proof that your heart still loves. Walk boldly, but walk with awareness. For when you understand that every journey deepens both the traveler and those who remain behind, then the road ceases to be exile—and becomes the sacred path toward truth, love, and becoming.