3:50 am in the morning… sitting by my desk, far from sleep. My body and my mind are resisting to adjust the 10 time-zones I flew over. My phone and my laptop have already spotted their new location on earth and automatically changed their clock. My body could not. Neither could my mind.
In one of his books, William Gibson writes that it takes a week for the soul to travel and find the body when the body is taken to the other side of the world only in 24 hours. I wonder where is my soul now? Somewhere over Greenland? Maybe. I am sure it is not here in Istanbul yet!
Times of transition, always a hard one! This is the town I was born and grew up. Actually this is the apartment I spent my childhood. All I feel is my disconnection. All I want is to take the first flight back to Portland and have my morning coffee at Albina Press.
Well, that is not quite right. All I want now is actually to be able to sleep.
How strong the mind’s addiction to habit and routine that I can’t feel at home when I am at home. Oh well, I say to myself, this will pass too. I have people here. People I dearly love. My family, my friends, my students. Once I connect with them, I may feel at home again. First my soul must arrive!
We have a tendency to come to conclusions in times like this. Transition times, hard times. As I lay wide awake in my bed for the last 3 hours my mind kept telling me that the discomfort is a sign that we are not supposed to be here. “This should be last time” it tells me. “Make the decision right now” it insists. Such an insecure child the mind is! I don’t want to make a decision based on my discomfort. Those decisions are rarely accurate.
And oh, yes, I made it safe and sound. That is what matters at the end.
And the sleep of course.
It does matter a lot.
Anyway…sleepless in Istanbul, I wanted to reach out and say I miss you Portland.
6:57 am Istanbul / 8:57 pm PortlandAir/?/Water/Food? = SleepBe of piece of Pecan Pie,all you need is sleep & sigh.Sheltered under Turkish sky,Zephyr when your soul is nigh.Jack
Whenever I fly back to the west coast from New York, my soul hops off the plane over Cleaveland. It takes Amtrack back. John