It is once again before sunrise and I am thinking of Spain. Balancing lightly between fearing I don't have enough time to get all the art work done for my show that opens May 2 and wanting time to pass so I can leave for Spain on June 2. The show comes down May 31 and I depart on the 2nd. I am so thrilled. I have not been back to Spain for two years and I miss it like a heartbeat skipped.
Though I love the culture and the language, which I am attempting to learn, I also believe that part of my love of being in Spain is just the love of being away from the busyness that is me. This busyness is so ingrained, so much a part of me, that I seem to need to go across the world carrying only a small suitcase to force myself into submission to idleness, to wandering, to strolling, and meandering.
I have to fight the compulsion to take all the "things" that I could "do," all the "things" I could "catch up" on while I am there. All the "things" I don't have "time" to do here because I am so busy. I have been on this treadmill my entire life. And it is not all bad. I love being busy, doing things, sampling all that life has to offer. I love being in the mix of people, tossing ideas around like a food fight. I love creating and making things come to be, visions that never were before.
That being said, I also long for the ability to just be. Notice, I didn't say I long for the "time" to just be. This busyness has nothing to do with time. There is very little in my life, in all my busyness, that I do out of necessity or for survival, other than eat and sleep. The rest of my life is mostly filled with activities I want or choose to do.
I will be in Spain for the whole summer and I am resisting with all my might the compulsion to be here while I am there, to maintain constant contact with my life here, to be up before dawn checking facebook or writing emails. If I am up before dawn I hope to be watching the fishing boats leave the harbor with the stunning sunrise over the Mediterranean.
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