morning pages

5:12 am – Sitting alone at the airporter stop waiting for the bus that’s supposed to arrive in 7 minutes.

I’m across the street from the dump watching a stream of trucks going in and coming out. This morning it occurs to me what a delicate dance it is maneuvering an 18-wheeler. I feel like semi-trucks are the red blood cells of our consumer-based lives, without them things would fall apart so quickly.

It’s questionable how quickly things are falling apart anyway, but I also find so much gratitude for how much is functioning in a way that we barely notice the infrastructure and convenience that creates our mostly comfortable lives.

The dump is fascinating to me right now. I can’t decide if I like the faintly eucalyptus-y, mildly toxic smell in the darkness of the 53 degree morning air. It smells better than the inside of the airporter ticket booth anyway.

The bus is already 5 minutes late. My perfectly planned arrival time could be at risk. I notice for the millionth time in my life how I’m either completely anal about being on time or throw the possibility out the window. But for airports and flights, being on time and unhurried is an important value.

I once missed a flight in Sydney, Australia due to my ignorance of how to read “army time” on my ticket. I miscalculated and missed a final exam. Luckily the Australian lecturers are extremely chill and flexible. Many of them have no real allegiance to the Universities they teach at and are against the administration on principle. So refreshing. Or that’s how it was at the tiny art school I went to, Queensland College of Art. So many students couldn’t be bothered to show up on time or even at all. A student reported on the day a final project was due reflecting 50% of our grade that she “couldn’t be bothered to do it.” It’s fascinating to witness different values. I couldn’t be bothered to learn army time.

I’m on the bus now and disoriented by where we are even though I’ve lived in this county for almost 20 years. Buses are allowed in different places than cars. My geographical disorientation never fails to surprise me. I can count on it. I love that my high school best friend still gives me directions when driving around the area we grew up in. It’s fascinating to me that I can still get lost while using GPS. How wildly different brains can be when we focus on too many details that might not be relevant to our destination or goal.

I’ve been driving for 31 years and still struggle though I feel like I am a safe, considerate driver 99% of the time, most especially when someone else is in the car with me.

The transitions as people get on and off the bus are extremely jarring to me this morning. It goes from dark and quiet to bright and loud each time we stop. People getting on coming from outside are talking too loudly for my taste this early in the morning. Everyone has a different default volume and different sound sensitivity. It always fascinates me how some people think they are whispering at a very high volume. It’s all relative.

I’m bracing for a day of travel where everything will be different than I’m used to and not much will be in my control. I think it’s healthy to shake up my routine in this way even though I get anxious about it for days ahead of time. It’s good to acknowledge all the parts that are potentially challenging, sensoryarily overwhelming, and then again exciting, new, beautiful, and revelatory.

I just realized that I was going to bring a mask and I didn’t. I think I can get one at the airport. I’ve always been grossed out by airplane air. I actually like that wearing a mask anytime is more normal now even though I rarely do anymore. I remember being in China about 20 years ago and how many people were wearing masks all the time.

Someone behind me has coffee breath. The driver keeps clearing his throat. We’re crossing the Golden Gate Bridge now. I have never crossed this bridge without feeling cool because I live so close to the Golden Gate Bridge that so many tourists want to see and walk across. It always feels special, and for the $9.25 toll…I guess it’s good to take in the view and feel all the good feelings.

Writing my way towards the airport reminds me of when I worked in downtown San Francisco and took the ferry from Larkspur Landing to work each day. That is unless I was late or the parking lot was full and then I’d have to feel lucky to pay $20 dollars for parking in the secret, slightly sketchy all day lot slightly off Union Square. I started a Ferry Blog, which was great at first, but then turned into me just bitching about how unfair and toxic my work environment was. That job was the last I had before I quit having a boss and became my own boss. I burned that bridge in that last job so hard. I am so proud of myself for that. Sometimes you have to burn a bridge to move forward.

I love to talk about how, “I just didn’t go back.” After my very first plant medicine ceremony, it became crystal clear to me that my current job was not “a good way” for me to be spending my time and life force. That job led me down a path that was deeply unhealthy. I felt out of control, compulsively anxious, and consistently traumatized.

So I stopped going there. I didn’t call in sick, I didn’t say anything, I just didn’t go to work. Within hours my co-worker texted to say that my boss was going to call the cops to my house if I didn’t check in. So I had to say that I wasn’t coming back. No two weeks notice, no finding my replacement, no wrapping things up in a tidy way so that nothing would fall through the cracks. I was just done. As Brene Brown would say, “I’m blown.” That job just blew me up from the inside and the medicine was like, “Hey, it’s your life. Stop that bullshit and start treating yourself like you matter and your life is a precious, valuable gift.” So I did.

The coffee breath person is now snoring. It’s funny how caffeine can make you tired sometimes. He just made a gross mouth sound. Ugh.

One thing I grieve from quitting jobs with offices and coworkers is that I am a super fun and funny person to work with. My office persona is one that I miss. I usually found great friends in people I worked with and am still connected to many of them, especially jobs that I was able to quit without burning bridges.

I’m grateful for all those environments that helped me learn so much in my 20’s and early 30’s. I like working and feel pride about doing a good job and finding/creating systems that make sense and are efficient. I’m mostly good at being honest, fair, and treating people well and kindly. I just love that I get to make my own rules now, decide who I want to work with, and mostly respect my body, energy, nervous system and sovereignty in the process.

The sun is coming up now. We are 5 minutes from the airport. I have to pee. I’ve used 8% of my battery writing this. It makes me dizzy to look up and out the window with my reading glasses on. Yesterday I laughed at myself that somehow I had 6 pairs of reading glasses in my purse! What the fuck? It’s a reality of being 47 year old me. I need my reading glasses close by at all times.

When I was younger, I would sometimes decide to be a completely different person to the passenger next to me on the plane. If they started talking to me, I’d make up a totally different version of myself and challenge myself to remember all the lies I had told throughout the plane ride – like an improv game but only I knew I was playing.

Ew. The drivers voice is super creepy. His voice makes the hairs on my neck stand up. Must he speak like that all slow, gravely and quiet, drawing out each word and making airline names sound dirty. I trust my body instincts that he’s someone to stay far away from.

I will now end this post so that I can focus because airports are bad places to make mistakes or get lost. Thanks for reading my morning pages!