I am (was) on a flight from Costa Rica to Mexico. I am tired as I usually am when I have to deal with practical stuff. I cannot be myself if I have to think where I am going, be careful with my bag, talk administration. This is highly incompatible with my nature.
The world that I perceive has millions of details that I need to take notice of. I never have real mechanic time. I could spend countless hours reading, learning, observing, kissing, making love. I suffer from terrible anxiety when hurried up by the clock. This is the only mask I have. The good working human. I am grateful for it. I am grateful for everything.
I always focus on the beautiful, because I know I won’t miss the ugliness. It punches me in the stomach so hard, that I lose my breath for a moment. I am quite used to being over sensitive to the world. I have no choice as I cannot moderate it without becoming idle. Every time I say “idle”, I think about a coffee bag, the vacuum sealed one, no air, stiff and isolated. I cannot live like that. I need to release my essence and draw kindred spirits to me. Love heals. Mine is more than enough, when needed.
Stomach just bounced in the air loop. I would add some vanilla to the sky knocking outside my window and stir it until the aroma fills us all. The girls sitting next to me is a bit scared and a bit shy. Quite sweet, holding her man’s hands, shrinking her whole body into a little mouse that he can protect. I am pushing my invisible vanilla air towards her and imagine that her green sweater is a fresh spring field. I feel grounded again with my feet in the green grass and point my nose up, until I see the metal bird and fly back to myself.
I remember a clown sitting on an aircraft wing, in a horror movie that I saw some years ago. You know when you meet someone and you feel like they are burning underneath their skin? That clown had crazy eyes. Passion for something makes you look a bit crazy, just like that clown. Especially if it drains you.
Or maybe you’re lucky enough to have never looked this beautiful. Maybe you mark the space you penetrate like the sizzling electricity before the storm. Maybe your passion connects you with all that explodes and mutates. Mine does. And I do look like a clown on plane, if placed in the wrong environment.
I will soon be landing into safe arms. This is because of all the wonderful people I met in Mexico. Happiness is very high on their list of priorities. They carry their smile everywhere and are always ready for a heartfelt hug. I am really hoping to spread this warmth everywhere I go. I have seen people bloom on ordinary days and out of the blue, transforming me and themselves into pure magic. Actually, just by letting me tag along. A wild spirit will either run alone or in a fair race. I don’t really know what meaning can the rest of what remains, have.
I am yet not able to find the words to fully express how my life confirmed itself, but I will try my best. Although I travel alone, I don’t feel like this is my journey. I cannot help but carry everyone in my heart. I have enough room, finally.