Airport Contemplations

The older I become the more I long for the trees.

For refuge.

For the stars.

For seclusion.

Noise and chaos are constant and my head aches from the influx of stimulation. My shoulders cringe from the consistent loud clangs I'm supposed to be accustomed to.

I used to fear the isolation. 

Fear the length of time between connection.

Now, when the buzzing arrives I feel an auto-shock of disdain flow within me.

I long for the noise to cease, or at least to let me breathe for a second. The phone, television and voices make me question how much of our lives are wasting away. 

These are not true connections. These are distractions and I feel my ability to speak is withering.

Since beginning this free write at the airport all of three minutes ago I've received 8 Snapchats, 2 Twitter notifications and the complaining of a person unhappy about their flight into Dallas. I see saddened faces and annoyed expressions. The only smile exists on the lips of a girl, maybe 1 years old, who is crawling and watching people. 

She still see the good.

I still see the good but fear it may disband one day. 

The smile I share gets more odd looks than welcomed ones. Gets more people thinking I am flirting than just being nice.

I wonder how few people sit in the silence.

It’s a scary thing.

Unmoving silence without thinking it is silly or pointless.

Giving yourself over to it.

Giving yourself space to breathe, reflect and recognize the good.

To feel and admit it.

To be vulnerable and gaze within.

I discussed the terrifying ways we as humans have destroyed so much of our world with a cab driver today. He and I shared a moment together where we grew sad witnessing the bystander effect.

His daughter needed help and onlookers turned away, focusing on themselves. Not wanting to be involved. His neighbor of 23 years never says hello. He asked why it was this way in America and I admitted I had no idea.

It reminded me of Ubuntu: I am because we are.

He hugged me when he dropped me off.

The phone continues to scream at me. How long can I leave it for? A new ache arrives as I grow insecure in not knowing its content. My head hurts at the notion of not responding.

The trees, remember the way they feel.

The beautiful whistle of their leaves.

The smell of pitch oozing from the bark.

The strength  they give me.

Give us.

To have a whisper of time here is overwhelming. To seclude or to run for the crowd.

To live with what is left of those trees.

My dog, Chunk, reminds me to never let go of that innate love to spread love.

“Spread love wherever you go. Let no one leave you without leaving happier”

- Mother Teresa

While this life’s pursuit sometimes weirds people out (I’ve been told my positivity is unprofessional and un-American) it just is.

Happy Chunk has a brother, Gizmo, who doesn’t always play nicely (though I love him just as much!). Despite this Chunk still loves him unconditionally and wiggles his way around the house filled with joy and love. He shares his love when he senses you are down.

Humans can learn great things from animal life. While we may be at the top of the food chain, we know so little about what matters: happiness, love and life.

These frowns and “why me” and unwillingness to slow down, they are hurting us.

I don’t know what success looks like. Perhaps it is in the small things: hugs, thank yous, not looking at your phone while in conversation, making someone a cupcake.

Whatever it is I hope my mini contributions make an impact.

And when I smell the trees and look up at the stars, I hope others will do the same.