I woke up today in a foul mood Foul to the point that stupid niggling little things that normally I don’t even notice were cause for major irritation. Cloudy skies? I wish I were still in Tucson. Whining dogs? Can’t you go bother someone else? MIA yoga mat? Why can’t I keep my shit together? No more Good Earth tea? The world is pretty much going to end.
And then I saw this:
Travel is like love, mostly because it’s a heightened state of awareness, in which we are mindful, receptive, undimmed by familiarity and ready to be transformed. That is why the best trips, like the best love affairs, never really end.
I knew why I woke up grumpy. The sky was gray, the air was cold. I missed going out into Scott’s front yard to say hello to the Tucson sun in shorts and a teeshirt as I had for the previous nine days. I missed my morning hug. I was staring down doing my taxes, of catching up on emails, of returning to work. I was entirely uninspired to do any of it.
After nine days of magic, inspiration, and being acutely aware of each passing minute and hour, sitting down to focus was proving to be a challenge. After nine days of heightened awareness, I felt my life vibration step down a notch. The deteriorating weather wasn’t helping my cause. The great let down. It happens after every adventure. It always catches me off guard.
I laughed. You’re worse at life recovery than you are at physical recovery. Maybe in the same way that I can’t ride my bike all day every day like I would so very much like to do, I can’t live at maximal awareness every minute of every day. Maybe sitting back on occasion and watching flames in the fireplace, listening to rain, curling up in a blanket, and putting off taxes one more day, and just being, is okay. It quite possibly is even good for me. Maybe it’s recovery, so when it’s time to fly again, I can fly higher than ever before.
The trip isn’t over. Far from it.