Midnight Thoughts
Traveling this way is such an amazing experience. It gives me the courage to think beyond the normal comforts of our Western lifestyle, allows me to see the hardship and suffering and happiness and love that is all around us, miraculously and unfortunately. We are privileged beings. And some of those terrible things that have happened to our friends, our country -- death, terror, depression -- are no longer what we read about in textbooks. The displacement from comfort and a confined perspective releases our innermost emotions - not the most emotional, but the most honest. I fear that upon reuniting with my former classmates, my judgement will once again be narrowed and impaired. For a young man of developing opinions and a diverse acceptance of reality, traveling by oneself, and just applying the time to ponder what we observe and how we feel about, is growth beyond anything one can imagine. However, it requires a determined balance of comfort and displacement.
I'm on a plane to London at the moment. It's nearing 11 in the evening, Pacific Standard. We're flying into the rising sun, as the Western hemisphere drifts into sleep. Light seeps through cracks in the bulkhead. The silence of the cabin, the simple knowledge of where we're going, and how it will be different for every one of us, unites the passengers. This is no common feat - some will be returning to family, some on business, others like myself moving on into uncharted waters. We're somewhere on the North Atlantic Track, a name that sends shivers down my spine. Desolation - it's where nobody pulls over, gets out of their car, and takes a picture. It's the middle passage, and we pass in luxury. But something seems out of place. Wherever we end up, it's not how we left it, and it's nothing like Los Angeles.
I imagine how difficult this journey will be. Relative luxury, per se, but taxing on the mind. This is no vacation, and it's not work either. It's a certain type of discovery. I'm going to tape all day, immerse myself in Chinese culture, and then have no time to think. What is it all good for, without time to understand what I'm looking at. The physical exhaustion will be enough, but the mix of personal, emotional circumstances will bring it over the top. I think, at least. Maybe I'm in for a pleasant surprise. I won't miss you, good ol' US of A. As I pass over the faintly shadowed waters seven miles below, I know I won't miss a single one. Because once I've seen it, it's not going to change... and I'm coming back. There's nothing to miss when I have nothing to lose. Everything is right here with me, in my head and with my senses. So long, bright shores of Canada.
I love London from the air. We descend through the clouds in a dream-like state. The muttering is subdued, weary from long hours of darkness. And then the air gets choppy, buffets us around through our wild turns and stepped approach. We're a majestic bird, perching in all its glory. The city below is nothing like any American city I've intimately known; broad tracts of residences are quickly separated by simple fields. High apartment buildings lie across the street from parks not given an inch of room to breathe, completely covered by flourishing trees. And then there's the Thames. It's no narrow waterway; its gloomy depth is solemnly respected by the vibrant city on either side. It winds its way into every picture, refusing to be ignored. Countryside is never far here, the bold beauty that is British.
We alight harshly, and when one thinks of where we have come from, what we have accomplished in this commonplace feat, the feeling is happiness. Pride, almost. This place is beautiful in its own right, and the best part is that it won't have a chance to grow old.
Labels: british, heathrow, london, travel
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