Time...

Together.

Apart.

Between.

Difference.

Moves on.

Moments of Panic

I've started to catalogue my days traveling in different ways (moments of laughter, sounds, smells, new people I meet) and I'd like to add one to the list: Moment of possible freak out. Because there have been a few. Really? Oh yes. Well, mind you, traveling is scary and you are faced with your worst fears all the time. They come directly to the surface and tap you on the shoulder constantly: getting lost, no one understanding you, not being able to get home quickly. The list goes on and on.

These freak outs are usually things you never ever share with another human soul because of the absolute ridiculousness that lies within, or you proclaim your misfortune to others so they may learn from your example and laugh at you. Or with you as the case may be here:

1.) At Lucy's wedding I was standing in the back against the bar and listening to the speeches. As my mind drifted off to some past and present whats and hows of my own life, a man ran up to me and hitting the back of my head said (in a British accent of course): "Lady, lady - your head is on fire." And thus it was. My hair was put up but had somehow, unbeknown to me, started to un-bobbypin itself and make it's way to a candle on the bar and did go up in flames. Now, ironically, I didn't panic. At this point, not much surprises me and it all happened so quickly. I was more embarrassed than anything really. And so I moved on quickly to giving my speech and ignoring the fact that it may have looked like I had a snarly little dog hanging from the back of my head.

As the night progressed, I met many nice people and had many nice conversations, which at some point were usually interrupted by the other person saying: "Do you smell that? It smells like something is burning again."

To which, I would respond every so calmly: "No, I don't smell a thing." And continued to ask them questions, taking a step back and standing with my head tilted away from the general direction of their nose.

Now yes, I was of course a little worried about my hair. It's long. I like it that way. I call it my California. But do watch what you ask for: while it was driving me nuts all morning, I joked that I just wanted to cut it all off. And in fact, I got a little of what I asked for. The next morning at 6am, with 3 hours of sleep, I woke up to the hideous smell and reminder of the candle/bar incident. It's one of the worse smells and FYI for future reference of your own - I brushed it out, I washed it - this smell, it does not go away.

So, I did what naturally any human would do: I freaked out a little (insert melodramatic gestures, moans, and cries - and for fun, a British accent)... "My hair! My long hair! Oh good God! Why me? Maybe I'll have to get a short haircut and go back to the days as a freshman at Rochester looking like an immigrant boy! My life is ruined! Maybe people sitting next to me in my travels would have to move disgusted of the smell and I'll make no friends! Maybe they will smell it when I go through airport security. Of course, of course they will. And they will question me, and I won't be able to get though. Who would believe my story? Maybe they'll get the dogs!"

So drowsily, with no one to listen or encourage my personal rampage, I calmed down and before dragging my bags down the stairs to the train, I drowsily went to the bathroom and quickly, cut off about an inch or so from the bottom of my hair - smelling the ends as I went to ensure total removal.

Three days later, having passed through airport security and making friends on the plane (no dogs having sniffed me), I think the smell is mostly gone. And I like my new cut. And I will never stand with my back to a bar that has candles. Or just in case, I never wear hairspray. And if all fails and this happens again, please next time let the old second grade lesson of "stop, drop, and roll" be the first thing that comes into my head.

Thank you to the man with the purple glasses who ran to my head and to the young bar staff who, for the most part, kept a good, laughing secret all night. We all now have a new story to tell....

Rome in a Day...

Hundreds of photos...

Thousands of stones and statues...

Countless steps...

People galore...

And a few prayers, too.

My friend Sally told me that she used to find that if she got overwhelmed in a new city, to just go into a church. Good advice. Especially in Rome. It's got a lot of churches and it's easy to get overwhelmed so it's perfect. Around every corner there is a magnificent church. And although there are tons of people (businessmen, tourists and nuns alike), no one talks or answers a phone. A sacred space. You can sit down and no one will bother you. In Rome, do bring a scarf as to cover your bare arms. It's a bit of a rule, I found out. If you don' t have one, they had out these white tissue paper like things to use and you can go on your way. And stay for as long as you like.

On Permanence

One: I hope that they are all together up there now eating and laughing and playing cards and being happy.

Another: I don’t know if they are really people any more doing people things.

One: Oh, come on. It’s nice to think about them like that... Happy.

Another: But they already were, weren’t they? They did that already.
I think heaven is here on earth.
And it’s good that we have endings.
That nothing is forever.
That way, we enjoy it all for what it is while it is here.

Cheers to those who have gone before us and to us as we extend their lives with our own.

A Tired Girl in Norwich

Eyes floating like goldfish
Saying I don't know what
Blinking for air
Thinking aside.

Time goes like watercolor waves
Suspended like prayerflags
For a bed of my own.

Love happens just as life does
In spurts and sparks
And moves and moves
Constantly shifting
Redefining.

Eggshells cracking
Letting go of the reigns
She winks
Disassociates
Turns off the light
And readies for slumber.

The ticker of her mind
Goes through it's usual motions
Check-lists
Would haves
Should dones
Better ifs
Gears and cranks and locks and keys
Anything to rid her of the present chatter.

Wishes and wants
Travels and round the bends
Insects and darkness
Patterns on the ceiling
Shadows on the wall.

Oh how the innerworkings
Finally give way
And the earth spins round
Ever so gently
Tucking her in.

A Houseboat Called "Water Buffalo"

To witness someone's everyday. Drives and walks. The way they keep their house, dishes, desk, love, lights, towels, clocks. The way they make and eat dinner and share it with you at their table. It is a realy honor. A blessing. An adventure. A breath of fresh air...

I awake hazy, still jet-lagged to a kitchen where the woman doing dishes wears a t-shirt that reminds me she was also “Born in Buffalo.” I eat breakfast with my Aunt Doreen. Drink tea and catch up. Talk anew and reminisce.

I visited Doreen here in London many years ago and although young, I remember riding along the Thames and realizing that I was meeting my Aunt for the first time. In the place that she had chosen to live and be and work and love. Walking on her streets. Having her show me about. Free, excited, light.
She is a teacher. Aunt Doreen is. She has lived in London for twenty years working with deaf children and their families. Now, mind you, this is nearly just as long a time as she spent growing up in Buffalo. In fact, Doreen’s hard Western New York “a’s” have evolved into often upward inflecting sounds that include words like rubbish and loo as if she had always been British herself.

She, and her beautiful Tai Chi printing bloke named Albert (who I am, by the way, honored to call Uncle) own a flat in an area of London in the northeast called Tottenham Hale. They’ve built a grand life with friends and dinners and travels and seashells in the bathroom.

And she, my Aunt Doreen, without knowing it or trying to prove any kind of point, reminds me again today: About where we are from. About how to go home. To visit family. To stay connected. To make that journey and continue to love this place and that one. The people. The snow. And that these things stay with you. Not to weigh you down or run away from, but rather to springboard to wander the world and welcome you back.

Aunt Doreen is playful. Singing when biking under bridges to hear the echo, making up stories about things when I ask questions she doesn’t know the answer to. Open to hearing about all. Taking photos. Even ready to be a clown too.

She walks with Buffalo throughout the streets on London, her also home, everyday and today welcoming me home... smiling, and sharing the sites of this part of the world with me once again.

Day 4: Gratitude as the Sixth Sense

Day Three: Onto the Outskirts of Nowhere (London)

Some new experiences of the senses...

In the Blink of an Eye:
Kayakers practicing at the new 2012 Olympic site:
Lee Valley White Water Center.
People are already practicing and watching.

Within Ear shot:
The bells on our bicycles as we needed to pass people by along the canal path
during our 20 miles bike ride!

Nose Sniffing:

Frankincense burning at the Ethopian restaurant when having coffee.
It smelled like Catholic mass.

Hand Grazed:
The handle on the gate of Cheshunt Lock.
They push these open to let the houseboats through.

Still Savoring:

Banana fudge from Scotland that my aunt brought back from her trip last weekend.
I don't know that it helped my jet lag or not.

New Words:
"Trumble along to the calf" - Uncle Albert
...or "Get off your laptop and let's get there already."

Just Met:

Richard, a tai-chi-ing graphic designer, from Australia.
Lindy, a tango dancer, from South Africa.
Between us and my Uncle Albert four continents were represented through dinner.

And on my way...

Some Guidelines for Exploring the World

Let everything be your teacher.

Be ready to raise your eyebrows a lot.

Don't take anything for granted.

Never worry about smelling bad.

Send a postcard or letter to someone who hasn't been lucky enough to go to the places you are.

Remember how different and the same we all are.

Day Two: Tottenham Hale, London

In the Blink of an Eye: Houseboat anchored to the bank of the River Lee
Within Ear shot: Coot (bird) asking me not to come near his newborns
Nose Sniffing: The perfume from a big tree with bright yellow leaves
Hand Grazed: Green paint chipping off bridge overlooking a canal lock
And Still Savoring: Rosemary and thyme brined chicken Aunt Doreen made for dinner.

Fear

A funny thing

Eh

That

Taking us unknowingly by the hand

Leading us somewhere we didn’t

Nope

We didn’t quite want to

Want to go

Or perhaps

Maybe

Making us sit down

Down

Down

When we had meant to stand up

Up

Up

Convincing us outright

To run away

Far far away

From the one we love

So sorry

Or battle a country we had thought as friend

Too bad

We can

Yep

Unwrap it like a candy

This fear

Give it a taste and go on our way

Yum

Yum

Or turn it into a ball of

Of

Of

Twisted rubberbands

Overlapping

Colorful

Beautiful even

Oh the stories we can tell ourselves

Tangling us with tension all the live long day

Long

Long

I’m afraid you will leave me

Also scared that I’ll get sick

Then what

Whispering

I wish I wasn’t alone

Or that the garbage truck didn’t come

Or that detour

That president

That

This

That

But no matter what or where or how

Yes

Yes

Yes

We can calendar

And tailor

And tuck in

And be on time

We say yes

And I do

And go team

And then go

And then go

But when do we sit

Looking straight into the

Vast or the little of the I don’t know

Before

Aw man

And oh shit

And wait what

Panic ensues

And we fall in love with the freak out

Out

Out

The pattern

And how could she

And why would he

And then what

What

What

What if

Or if

Or if

Okay calm down

Turn on the music

Have a glass of wine

And welcome this thing in

This fear

Good evening gorgeous

Greet it at the door with open eyes

Joke and give it a wink

And converse

Freely

About the tricks of the trade

And at the end of the night

You know

I know you

So

What do we have to lose

So

And so and so.

Thank you to all of the folks who listened to me go on and on the day before leaving and got me on that plane.