Tuesday, 1 September 2015


Getting out of town isn't easy. Getting on a plane isn't plain sailing.

Getting everything ready to go; getting everything organised for while you're away; getting yourself dislodged from routines and comforts; getting your goodbyes said and the dirty work done; getting so many decisions made and so few bags packed with so much in such a short space of time; getting through the roller coaster ride of emotions; getting to the airport on adrenaline; and, getting your threadbare self into that upright seat, is a long list to get through.

You only just make it, every time. It takes some trusty thrust to get over that threshold.

Leaving is seldom light. It carries the burden of endings. It wears the weight of sizable spiritual and emotional work. It holds you down until you work yourself loose and lunge into the new and unknown. Leaving comes at a price. It cannot be taken lightly.

It's like a death; a symbolic and psychological termination; a rushing as time seems to accelerate; a sorting out as you race towards a dwell point in the imminent future. It presents you with issues and insights that you would normally not notice. It stirs up tensions you usually gloss over.

It puts you in touch and makes you sensitive. It makes you more alive. Leaving takes you along with it as you get sucked through a porthole into...

You have to leave and find out.