September 4: Finally, we’re on the plane, in the air, on the way…
Flights are a bit like meditation. The seat isn’t exactly a cushion on a wooden floor, but after an hour it’s just as uncomfortable. The thoughts come into your head and, according to Zen-lore, you’re not supposed to follow them…
Okay, I can do that… can’t I?
Whoosh – work floats in, huffs and puffs, then departs. I’m trying not to follow the train of thought. The express train. Not follow, not follow. Then the next one arrives – all mother-love and sooky stuff. It’s an all-stops. Stand clear, all doors are closing. Whoosh.
So here I am, thousands of feet up in the air, and still at the mental workstation or dealing with separation anxiety… Sheesh.
Distraction is required. My exclusive veggo meal arrives on cue. When did vegetarian equal gluten free, flavor free, chocolate free?
So EB eats vegetarian pizza (I kid you not, vegetarian…) and fresh fruit and chocolate. And I eat some strange cauliflower cous-cous conglomeration and a chemical-infused blueberry muffin which I suspect would survive a plane crash, along with the black box. Perhaps they should coat planes in muffin batter?
I have a couple of vino chasers to eliminate the after-burn…and the journey continues.