(Written somewhere in Dublin, possibly while on a train going somewhere). October 2017.
I’ve been feeling something and finally have named it: forced interface.
I’ve said fuck a lot, moreso in Ireland. Used like this: “Fuck!” “What the fuck?” “Fuck this!” Also intermingled occasionally with: “Jesus Christ!”
I’m having a great trip.
The cussing is always used when lost (a lot) or confusing the correct transit routes.
I’ve also heard the Irish use this word, and I don’t know why. It sounds cuter with their accent.
This trip isn’t about packing a bag and being self contained, blending into the wilds. It’s not about flying solo and calling the shots as they align with the path of the sun.
Even though I’m on a solo journey, it feels like a journey of blending, not only with the environment, but with all of its people and systems.
This is about interfacing all day long for nearly every step. I have left the grid that I know, my country, my burrows of habit and control, and am now plugged into a different circuit. Literally.
What an interesting thing to do!
So many surprises!
So much patience required!
I can’t just go my own way at my own whim, or personal timing. Not really. No. I have to dance with the masses, sync with the trains and busses, flow with the universal and public stream of civilization. We share paths and busses and trains and seats, and pop-thru sliding doors. The doors open and shut to dozens of interesting portals. Choose now and go forth!
Aside from my occasional cursing outbursts, it’s a wonderful course in stimulation. A fantastic journey into being cheerfully unbalanced.
Bottom line, a forced interface is great because it shoves us way out of our comfort zones where they say a lot of good stuff happens. We have to talk to strangers (they have all been nice!). We have no choice other than being vulnerable (invaluable). We have nowhere to hide, we are not our own island. In fact, skipping along in semi-uncertainty, I feel rawly in touch with the whole. Weird, huh?
I also look forward to getting back to my own life, my habits, the ease of the familiar.
As much as I like my grid, as much as I think I’ve mastered it, I must remember this.
One of my takeaways: Get off your grid and leap to another. I felt such an expansion by reaching out- in all directions. I haven’t left my own grid, not really, as it’s in me, but I’ve moved way outside and far away from it, trusting I’ll return.
Going back, I want to bring this creative feeling to my life, my surroundings. Freshen the linens I sleep in, wake up dormant parts of myself, open to and feel grounded in exploring other avenues.
I want to remember this feeling of a fantastic journey while being cheerfully unbalanced.
It builds open flexibility. Righteous!
