TRAVEL NOTES - Part One

In order to develop a simple eye, we must shed our belief that only things that are dramatic have real value, and that the true meaning of things lie within their complexity. Only then can we begin to discover that simple things can have great power. One small measure of yeast can leaven an entire loaf of bread. A single mustard seed can grow into a tree of grand proportions.

Preparing to fly always gives me a certain measure of uneasiness. My heart beats irregularly. I am visibly restless. My mind seems unable to focus for long periods of time. It has nothing to do with 9-11 and everything to do with the very fact that as I age I am becoming increasingly aware of my own mortality; aware of the reality that bad things happen to good people everyday. I'm aware that anything touched by the hand of man has the potential to break, malfunction, fall apart. I'm aware that people take foolish shortcuts in the name of laziness; shortcuts that cost lives. Flying without my children makes me sick. Physically sick. I think of the possibility that it may be the last time I ever see them, and them me. I think of the possibility that they'll grow up without their mother, by some sick twist of fate. I'm always apprehensive, tearful, distraught. No matter how much I work myself up to believe that I DO deserve the trip I'm taking, I'm always left with balancing the benefit vs. the potential cost and I can very easily talk myself out of going, no matter how much I've already invested, no matter who's waiting on the other end to receive me. There's something about the known, calculated risk of flying that makes me downright afraid. Afraid that I have not done all I wanted to do yet on this Earth. I am not ready to die. I tell you, I'm a mess.

So anyway, the day before I'm to leave, as I stand at the mirror twisting my hair, I feel my stomach churning and I know what's coming. I start thinking about Kid 1 and Kid 2 and Spouse and I'm ready to call the folks and tell them I'm not coming. Kid 1 had been asking me all week, "why do you have to go?," and "what are you going to do?" and "where are you going to sleep?" and "who's going to sleep with you?" and "when are you coming back?" and "what are you going to eat?" and the kicker, "Mommy I'm really, really going to miss you." And so in order to not transfer my fears to her, I did alot of hugging and reminding that it was only for the weekend and I'd be back before Monday morning swimming class. Okay, she says, clearly unconvinced.

One aside: Kid 1 is exactly like me in many ways. She's artsy and deeply contemplative. She's also a worrier. Why? Maybe there's some transference there, I dunno. But she is a worrier, which makes me worry that she's worrying because she's too young to be worrying. Let me do the worrying.

Anyway. So when I go to drop off she and her brother at grandma's (and her rolling luggage, even though she's only staying with grandma for three hours but hey, Mom's got rolling luggage so Kid 1 has got to have her luggage too) ... she seems okay. Okay with the fact that I'm getting on the airplane. Okay with the fact that I won't be there, at home, for two nights. Okay that Dad will be the HNIC. Well sorta. She says to me, "Mom, please tell Daddy not to be so mean while you're gone." Dad does way more disciplining than I do which makes him mean and me good. So when we get to grandma's and everything seems cool and she's giggling and putting on her baby act, I turn to tell her, for real now, I've got to go. And all the laughing stops and her eyes, big brown and watery, plead with me to stay. She's pulling on my arm, for real, pleading with me not to go.

Stage Right: Do we have any daggers over there that we can plunge into the heart scene??

But I've got to go. For more reasons than she knows and I care to explain. So grandma, being the good grandma she is, pulls them both off me like a pair of ticks, cuddles them in her arms and tells them that Mommy's got to go and she'll call you as soon as she gets there. And Kid 1 turns her back to me, clutching the little pillow that my mother gave her when she was born and I can't help feeling that sick, sour stomach I'd felt just 12 hours earlier.


PART TWO

In the air, I see the Earth from a different vantage point. I see the streets and highways that wind and twist like veins and capillaries. I see the houses, tiny from my view, like the pieces from Kid 1's Monopoly game. I see dense trees and am reminded of Kid 2, who never likes me to call broccoli, broccoli. He insists I call it "trees, Mommy." I see a setting sun that washes the clouds in the most beautiful mix of pink and tangerine I've ever seen. In the air, I see all that God is responsible for, all He has to deal with, coordinate, figure out, keep going. I'm deeply humbled and can't help thinking how miniscule our situations are in comparison to THE GRAND SCHEME. Why do we---I---worry like we do? The sun will not stop shining simply because boyfriend didn't call. The wind will not stop blowing simply because the pink slip has just arrived. The earth will not fall out of orbit just because she announced she wants a divorce. LIFE GOES ON. And life is happening. Staring into the pink and tangerine of the clouds that look so delicious I wish I could break open my window and touch them, I am determined to LIVE MY LIFE. I'm serious. LIVE MY LIFE. I am going to organize and prioritize so that I don't have to fear the un-done; so that I can fit in those things I've always wanted to do but keep saying I lack the time to do. I am determined to LIVE MY LIFE, void of excuses, unhealthy fears, irrational apprehension .... so that when that final day comes, I will meet it with some degree of satisfaction. I am determined to stop thirsting for that BIG THING and try at least to see the beauty in all things, the value in all things, the worthiness of every experience. Even those things I grapple with most. No small feat. But I can try.

And since it's now, uhm, 11:47 pm and Kid 1 is afraid of the dark and Kid 2 keeps sneaking out his bed, looking for me, I'll have to continue tomorrow.

Coming Up: Notes on the workshop and more valuable lessons.

Be Well. Be Love(d).

---A.