I have been back from Costa Rica for less than two weeks now. It seems like three months! Although I met some remarkable women and we worked through our Second Journey issues the hot temperatures (100 degrees to be exact) of the Equator took its toll along with a vegetarian diet literally devoid of protein. Add to that an arduous flight to Miami and then Costa Rica and then a 4 hour van ride to our destination I began to have my doubts as to whether this particular adventure was worth it. Have I grown too old for such travels or have I lost my sense of adventure altogether? Whatever, it has taken some time to recover.
I keep thinking of a friend who hated to fly. She would travel from the east coast to her parent’s home on the west coast every summer by train. She insisted that by the time she arrived she was on west coast time, and what’s more, she had left one life behind with transition time in between to get ready for another. Another friend recently crossed the ocean on the Queen Mary, Cunard’s pride and joy, and found the same pleasure—leaving all that life entails at home to take 6 days to become accustomed to a new time and place.
I think modern day’s race against time has done terrible damage to our very nervous systems. We all seem to be going too fast for anyone’s good. Perhaps my recovery is slow because my body is telling me to enter normal on my own terms.
I shall make time for tea each afternoon, meander along the beach instead of my usual power walk, and clear my calendar of unnecessary appointments. The blank space is allowing me to breathe.
