If you’ve never flown internationally, then you probably haven’t experienced the crazy condition called jet lag. For me, the days of June 18th and June 19th blurred together into a seemingly endless approximation of daylight, totaling some 20+ hours where I, a lone traveler, had to be awake and on my A-game. I can describe to you the exhaustion, physical and mental, where simple questions seem to stretch into a calculated equation with no real answer. I can describe the three separate flight schedules I had to keep (adding up to about 15 hours in the air) and the frantic dash in Minneapolis where a connecting flight was so nearly missed I could almost taste it. I can tell you about being stopped at the UK border to be grilled on plans that are indeed only half-cooked. These are things that make jet lag, jet lag. Today (tomorrow, yesterday?) was one of the hardest days I’ve ever had to experience. For the first time in my life I am by myself and operating under a volition that is entirely my own. It is terrifying and exhilarating.
My heart has been in my throat for a long time. Yet even in moments of incredible stress, if you look hard enough, you can find meaning.
In the last two-hour stretch of my International flight into the Netherlands, I experienced perhaps the single most exquisite sunrise I’ve ever seen.
It started at the very edges of the earth, glowing pale yellow and orange over the ocean of clouds. It rose slowly, reverently, as if waiting to unfurl its splendor at the absolute perfect moment. The sun finally broke through the clouds, searing through the glass of the plane window and washing across my face. Tears rose in my eyes. It was as if I was experiencing the first sunrise ever. After being crowded into a dark plane and left to wait, experiencing sun was like a balm I didn’t know I was missing until it was gone. Never before had something so common moved me so deeply.
In the end, I made it to my destination. In a small farm near Belfast, I finally laid my head down and slept. Three hours later I woke to the sound of cows bellowing for their dinner. The simplicity of it all struck me again. I think that is my goal for this week. Simplicity. Not trying so hard to dictate the moments of my life, but rather existing as an agent capable of change and learning in even the simplest of moments.