“Wherever you go, there you are”.
John Kabat-Zinn
We can blame this story on a riveting moment of being enveloped by panic, while taking my morning shower. I make a point of not shaving and washing my hair everyday, because neither can be good to do on a daily basis. I don’t know this for a fact, but how can putting a blade to your face or purging natural oils from your hair every twenty-four hours do a damn thing for you, beyond bowing to fair vanity? This shower was one of the irregularly scheduled all-inclusive packages, giving me more time than usual, creating extra mind time and this is where we begin.
The panic hit me, while massaging the shampoo into my scalp, a process that forces the eyes to protectively shut, turning my stare inward. The Tuscany trip whacked me sideways. The first thing that hit me is the commute from here to there, which is a huge one. I leave at 7PM on Tuesday, September 5th and have four flights that put me in Florence at 1PM on Wednesday, September 7th. Are you kidding me? You do the math, because my ankles began swelling in the damn shower, before I could get past the idea of two days in the air.
The pending travel torture quickly gave way to even more debilitating feelings of anxiety about the complete lack of familiarity, being completely, absolutely alone and grappling with the waning energy that comes with chronology. Within seconds, I was experiencing powerful discomfort, wishing I could make the whole trip disappear.
After rinsing my hair and opening my slammed-shut eyes, light returned and the darkness slid away just as quickly. Looking around my walled-in shower, I reminded myself of the nature of contrast, at least in my life. I live on a small island because I am comforted by familiarity and repetition, the illusion of security. At the same time, I know that challenge fosters growth. My strongest memories are the exceptions, experiences that stand apart because they busted the mold of sameness.
My feelings are complicated recipes, with infinite ingredients, never tasting the same from minute to minute, guaranteed to change whenever I think about them. With eyes open, balance began to find its way through the lopsided panic. Now, I could see the fertile, green hills of Tuscany, dotted with centuries old farmhouses and medieval villages, strategically planted with uncluttered views of the fields below. I imagine people with a completely different sense of time, unhurried by the crush of modernity. I am in every photograph I have seen of this magical part of the world, overwhelmed by its sheer beauty, incredibly grateful for taking the chance and fighting the fear.
Editing feelings is like editing life, viewing a rainbow with colors missing, a smile with absent teeth. Light and dark are the dance of emotions every one of us owns. It would be incredibly stupid of me to think I am going to rocket to Tuscany without any blow back at all. I will get on a plane in Newark, NJ and end up seven hours later in Munich, connecting to Florence. I will have come all the way from right here, trying to hold on to some sense of self, whatever that means.
I would like you to come along for the ride and see what happens.