Travel is impossible, but daydreaming about travel is easy.

In the quiet words of B. J. Novak, we hear a truth both sorrowful and liberating: “Travel is impossible, but daydreaming about travel is easy.” Though spoken with simplicity, these words carry the weight of eternity, for they remind us of the eternal divide between desire and reality, between the roads we long to walk and the chains that bind our feet. The ancients would have called this the struggle of the soul with Fate, for man’s longing is vast as the heavens, but his steps are bounded by the narrow earth.

To speak of travel is to speak of yearning, of the human heart’s hunger to wander beyond its dwelling place. From the dawn of time, man has lifted his eyes to distant mountains, whispering to himself, “What lies beyond?” But often the world, with its duties and its obstacles, forbids such journeys. There are wars that close the borders, there is poverty that stills the feet, there is sickness that keeps the body imprisoned. Thus does Novak remind us that travel is impossible, not only as a fact of geography but as a symbol of the limits we face in life.

And yet, there is a secret gift: though our bodies may be bound, our daydreams remain unchained. The mind can soar where the flesh cannot follow. In the marketplace, in the prison cell, in the humble room where one has never crossed the sea, the spirit may fly on wings of thought to lands unseen. Thus, Novak declares that daydreaming about travel is easy, for it requires not coin, nor passport, nor ship, but only the daring of the imagination.

Consider, O listener, the tale of Marco Polo. For many years, in the courts of Venice, men doubted his travels, believing them fantasies spun from dreams. Yet is it not true that his words—whether fully real or part imagined—opened vast worlds in the hearts of his countrymen? The silk roads of his mind lit fires of exploration even among those who would never leave their homeland. His dreams of travel were as mighty as the voyages themselves, for they shaped destinies, kindled ambitions, and stirred the longing of nations.

This teaching shows us that the dream is not lesser than the journey. Indeed, the dream may be the seed from which the journey one day springs. For what voyage was ever begun without first being imagined? What temple was built without first being envisioned in the heart of the builder? The dream is the path’s first stone, the flame that keeps the traveler awake through long nights of doubt.

Yet, beware also, children of tomorrow: let not your dreams of travel become a prison of idleness. To dream is easy, but to act requires courage. Many perish with grand visions in their hearts, never setting foot upon the road. The wise man dreams, but also prepares. He saves his coin, strengthens his body, and, when the hour comes, he rises from the chair of dreaming and steps into the world of doing.

Therefore, learn this lesson: never despise your daydreams. They are not weakness, but the stirring of your soul toward horizons unseen. Cherish them, nurture them, and let them guide your steps when the opportunity appears. If you cannot yet travel in body, then travel in mind—read the tales of explorers, study the maps, learn the tongues of other peoples, and let your imagination keep your spirit awake. For every dream carried faithfully in the heart prepares the way for a future journey.

And so I say to you, as the ancients would: hold fast to your dreams of travel, even when the road is closed before you. For though the feet may be bound, the spirit remains sovereign. One day, the gates may open, and when they do, those who have dreamed deeply will walk farther than any other.