On the airplane you’re flying at 550 mph enclosed in a sense of your own small victory. Will Leave. Are Leaving. Have Left. ‘Sabbatical’ and ‘extended break’ are timid notions that are not part of the story of the blood you left on your keyboard. The struggle felt epic, and the tangent, today, feels… infinite.
You have won time. You have given freedom and time to yourself. To the taxi line then the hotel, read in bed, order room service, sleep sooner or later, wake at dawn or sunset, then you’ll emerge like a baby to a different world, one with no built-in demands. Life before obligations, before all these answers to questions that have nothing to do with you.
Until you leave it feels like things are coming to an end, people stuck in their lives, the way is set and stale. The Options all rode out of town and you’re still here, in a movie after the closing credits. The seam has been worked, the gold extracted. Or there was no gold, just shiny stuff with a pivotal role in a story. Are Leaving.
Upon arrival, that all seems like impotent navel-gazing, and it is over. Some things stopped, and new things are starting. You flew through a discontinuity, and a lot of negativity did not survive the journey. Awake the first day everything is new, even through jet lag distortion. New context rouses another you, sensitized to change, adaptable and looking for more. Anything seems possible in this holy transition, because various cycles have been broken. The oppressive answers posed by your former routine have been replaced by possibilities constrained only by your imagination’s capacity to respond with new questions.
It’s your story, it’s as light as a free bird’s feather and no one said it was OK. You said ‘Yes’, and nothing in the universe is more real.
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