There have been a lot of things happening lately that have prevented me from laying my thoughts down to paper. Ironically, the things that keep you up at night, I am thinking as I write before I sleep.
Travel for work was like being instantly transplanted into a different time place continuum. It is like a whole new life one lives without family. The sole master of work can be focused on. My food looks like art.
I return home, only to wish a lifetime had not progressed in my absence. To strengthen the maladjustment into my usual time zone and life, I am injected into a class reunion of twenty years. People look different, but when you look into their eyes, you see some of the same people encapsulated into different bodies. Perhaps they changed, but the mere collective presence of a particular set of people, again like a time machine, moves them back to a time and age of want and dream, a better place.
Then to stop time, news of a relative that has gone ill, slows down the fast-paced jet setting life and beckons me to stay and linger a little longer on a life of a person and hope they are not soon a memory.
I am now forced to remember the last time I gave myself a gift of the quiet mind. The journey took me to Mexico. A storm came in as I stood on the top of a Mayan pyramid and watched her majesty, the rain, roll in on top of the jungle trees and kiss the heavens and earth at the same time. The smell of old temple and crowded tourists in that tiny space were irrelevant. That was the last time I travelled to nowhere alone.
I am now back in this time and space - the here and now. I am ready to document again, the oral history and recipe of life. The story again, unfolding, not how I imagined, but branching into tangents like a tree embracing the next wind. I am starved and hungry.