(From the plane, yesterday)
Just say it - feels good. Bibimbap.
I'm deep into this flight. We're just a couple of hours out of Narita.
I've finished my vegan zucchini-something-or-other while the rest of the plane chowed down on reconstituted - say it with me now - bibimbap. I've narrowly escaped being broadsided by a secretly meaty dinner roll. My seatmate even shared a couple of her candies with me, unasked and unhinted. Even so, I still have a rumbly in my tumblythat rereading this guestbook is doing nothing to help; now, my gustatory imagination is all Thai basil and thick noodles and lime. Growl.
It's a shame that the practice of pretty stewardesses has fallen out of favour. It does add something to the experience.
Since I first picked up these tickets - on what I'll be honest in describing as a whim - I've had a constant ebb and flow of emotion about the endeavor. If I could stand outside of it a bit more yogically, I'm sure I'd find it fascinating. As it stands, I'm lying here and letting it all alternately wash over me and retreat, leaving me sputtering and coughing every time.
I'm aware of what it looks like on the outside: a trip. A little outing. Several times over the past week, I've wished it were that simple. For me, it's a beginning. It's clicking my freakin' heels together and doing what I should have been doing all along - feeding my spirit, so I can be a better citizen/partner/lover/friend/human and not a bitter something-or-other all full of stories about the things I used to do but don't anymore 'cause...well...you know.
Beginnings are tough. But, as my favourite teacher at the Bikram studio likes to say, "In order to get the most benefit, remember - If you *can*, you *must*." Ic you *can* get the foot over the head, you *must* do it or you'll never advance. Well, I've had this aching tightness in that part of my life for a long time, and I'm long overdue to stretch it out. Waaaay out. And I *can* do this, so I am.
This is the yoga of my life - to do intense things to reinforce the skeleton of my Self. To be more - well - me. And, like body connects to mind connects to spirit connects ot breath, stretching and strengthening my adventurer's spirit can only stretch and strengthen the rest of me.
(And now, for today's missive:)
I learned something really important about myself today. Actually, it was more "this morning" - at about 1 AM, after approximately 26 hours of travel.
I learned that I am not, in fact, a backpacker.
I admit some shame in this. I woould love to think of myself as a creature as hardy as kudzu, happily tromping around the amenity-free hinterlands without a hint of longing (for a pillow that isn't rated on the geologic scale, for instance.) Truth is, when I opened the door to my room to discover that it was *just* big enough to house the bed and my bag, and that the bathroom was sort of a toilet-shower combo that could clearly use a Lime-A-Way grenade round, I saw clearly my true self. My true self lives across the street in the backpackerless, no-cool-points-for-rough-and-tumbleness boutique hotel. My true self doesn't like to wear flipflops in the shower and wish she were wearing platforms. My true self is checking out of Bedbug Roulette this afternoon.
Shut up singing 'Common People' to me. I'm authentic - authentically spoiled.