Europe feels like a dream. A lovely, awe-inspiring, beautiful dream. A fully-awake dream. I loved every city, every space, every experience. I loved them differently yet fully. I took books, but required no reading. The scenery provided a rich and unforgettable story.
Jet lag is a strange feeling. It doesn't impede my sleep, but something feels off--like I've lost track of time and place. I feel in-between lives and cultures. And this liminal space allows me to not know; to let things be fuzzy. While inhabiting the in-between, I judge less. I feel embodied. I go with the flow. I feel weird, yet connected to others (don't we all feel strange at times?).
Within the fuzziness of jet lag there's a rich learning environment: space to be more and do less; to accept more and judge less; space to see through the old stories. Sometimes fuzzy can be beautiful.
No comments:
Post a Comment