Waiting for my soul
Between Melbourne and Volda there is a lost luggage item. Somewhere in the world, a didjeridoo with blue paintings, wrapped in bubble-wrap and a black carrying case, marked with "fragile" as well as all the other tags that should bring it in this direction, is keeping my soul company. Luckily my daughter was quite happy to wait a little for it, and the koala clotheshanger has an honorary place already! Did you hear that Susana? Hauk has been playing around with his rainstick all afternoon, and the results of that is making itself known. I think the drought is over for a while.
So yes, I am home. But my soul is still out there. I think it will be slower returning than usual. Airports are spaces in-between, sanctuaries where I can peoplewatch, nap, eat, get drunk, shop, surf using my lap-top or just run from place to place free from all responsibility but that of watching the time. I can do that. I can deal with that. And so the 30-hour journey between Norway and Melbourne was a test of my patience and ability to relax and be comfortable, yes, but at the same time a neccessary opportunity to do absolutely nothing. Doing nothing used to be the best way for me to come to a point where I could do a lot. The energy that drives me to read and write, devour information and process it, comes from the hours when I vegetate. I refuse to call it meditating, that would be too active.
There is so much I want to write about. I want to go through the program of the conference again, and sum up my impressions, I want to write about dancing until 3 am in bars hidden Melbourne style in back alleys, sum up the interview with the Dragon Realms creators Saturday night and start outlining the thoughts on future projects. It will have to wait though - wait until my soul arrvies. Then perhaps, if I still like it, I may even post the poem I wrote on the plane. But since souls are essential to the creation of poetry, I will not post that just yet. BBS.