I arrived home after a very long time on two planes. Not realizing which airport I had landed I told the driver to take the BQE, he was puzzled and asked me if I lived in Brooklyn. No, but how will you go across the WIlliamsburg bridge to get me to lower Manhattan. Then he told me I was in New Jersey. OK, I guess I was tired.
I still am.
Well I have the snow and Christmas music to remind me of the time of year. The rushed pace of New York, how can everyone keep this up? And why do they do it at all? It doesn't make things happen faster? Does it?
This morning I'm walking to yoga practice in a down jacket , hat, scarf, gloves listening to Diane Krall's rendition of 'Fly Me to the Moon', freezing. "I'm home now, this is my life," I think, and I'm not complaining.
I could still feel the shape of the airplane seat during my practice, and the lack of stretching for a month. This too shall pass. Why else do they call it 'practice'? Sleep pattern shift aka jet lag can make you wise simply by slowing you down.
The bubble of a long and distant journey has begun to float away. The awareness of home with new clear vision lasts for a while, maybe a week. Perhaps it gives new resolution or inspires an action or two, who knows? The trip has been wonderful, difficult, inspiring, productive and at moments poignant. Again, these long journeys make me realize how connected and small the world is and how far you have to go to get to the other side of the world. Maybe it's time for me to discover Queens. How else am I (realistically) going to get even close to that amazing food without a corporation sized carbon footprint? I'm lucky to have an area to explore that's only a subway ride away. I'm glad I'm home.
I still am.
Well I have the snow and Christmas music to remind me of the time of year. The rushed pace of New York, how can everyone keep this up? And why do they do it at all? It doesn't make things happen faster? Does it?
This morning I'm walking to yoga practice in a down jacket , hat, scarf, gloves listening to Diane Krall's rendition of 'Fly Me to the Moon', freezing. "I'm home now, this is my life," I think, and I'm not complaining.
I could still feel the shape of the airplane seat during my practice, and the lack of stretching for a month. This too shall pass. Why else do they call it 'practice'? Sleep pattern shift aka jet lag can make you wise simply by slowing you down.
The bubble of a long and distant journey has begun to float away. The awareness of home with new clear vision lasts for a while, maybe a week. Perhaps it gives new resolution or inspires an action or two, who knows? The trip has been wonderful, difficult, inspiring, productive and at moments poignant. Again, these long journeys make me realize how connected and small the world is and how far you have to go to get to the other side of the world. Maybe it's time for me to discover Queens. How else am I (realistically) going to get even close to that amazing food without a corporation sized carbon footprint? I'm lucky to have an area to explore that's only a subway ride away. I'm glad I'm home.
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