I’ve been basking in the beauty of Marin Co. for almost a week now. I have a very push/pull, love/hate relationship with travel. I think I love to travel. Until I’m packing and running a dozen errands required to leave house and cat secure and to embark with good hair and the “everything but” that goes in my suitcase. By the last day before departure I’m generally swearing and asking myself why I think I like to travel. Then I go into high anxiety about getting to the airport on time, getting through security with minimum hassle, etc., often not sleeping.
This time I got up to that last day cranky thing and reminding myself that this is “always how it goes,” when suddenly I stopped and asked myself why. Why do I choose to have this anxious, unhappy relationship with the process of the journey? So I began to affirm to myself that this was going to be easy and effortless and everything would go fine. For once my short first flight left on time so I didn’t have to sprint through O’Hare without even a bathroom stop. Had a leisurely stroll and even got to drink coffee. Slept through the uneventful flight, got my suitcase right away and the moment I stepped on the median the airporter for Marin pulled up.
You’d think I’d know by now that all I have to do is change my attitude to change the unfolding of events. But with some ingrained habits of thinking I just carry on as before unless I have one of those moments when I ask: “Why am I choosing to have it ‘always’ be this way?”