International flights are a lot like magic. You lose a day or gain a day sometime depending on which way you cross the international dateline.
I feel like I made a long trek through the underworld to prove I’m worthy to attend this retreat and Bali. After tons of delays, bitching out customer service reps to get my flights straightened out and ending up on one of the most enjoyable international flights I’ve ever experienced, I’m finally in Indonesia. From Louisville to Chicago, Chicago to San Fran, from San Fran to Hong Kong and from Hong Kong to Jakarta, I’m finally on my last leg of my journey.
I dropped Friday and lost it somewhere in between listening to really creepy witch house over and over again while editing the airplane scene of my novel on an airplane.
I feel that dizzy, awe filled wonder that comes with traveling half away around the world. It’s a whirling disorientation that makes you question if you’re dreaming or awake because you’ve lost track of your sleep schedule and time has stopped making sense.
I do know that I feel really excited about everything that’s about to happen and I’ve proven I’m worthy. I’ve crossed the threshold. Let’s do this damn thing.