I'm back!

Apologies to those of you who visited while I was gone.

I've been travelling overseas for more than six weeks, and am slowly digesting the richness of my experiences. It feels as if I've lived through at least six months, rather than forty days, so much has happened during the time. And isn't our experience of time a mysterious thing? Everyone talks of it as being speeded up these days. Certainly the years whiz by. But to me it's more like taking a long train trip. There are stretches of rail where the train rattles through the landscape at a good clip, and then it enters a mountain pass, say, and starts winding more slowly, giving me plenty of opportunity to rest my gaze on the scenery.

I might be stuck in a dark tunnel for a while, thrown back on my own resources, then ten minutes can seem like hours, even endless. That's often how I feel when I wake on the plane and find myself thirty thousand feet in the air.

I used to be a slave to punctuality, until I realized I was putting unnecessary pressure on myself. Not that I aim to be late, at all, but I've moved to a different attitude, and that is to think that whatever time I arrive is the right time. In other words, to go along with it, and trust the process of time.