CDG--Mind, Body And France
When I landed in Paris, things started to take off.I was on a different plane. 7 days made one weak/week. Avi-Navi-gation seems as natural to me as sending an e mail or going to Starbucks. I fold up my self and carry "me"around as if I were a gym bag. CDG-Charles De Gaulle Airport is no exception.
If you want to be a multinational soul, you cannot do it in New York or Los Angeles, London or Tokyo alone-you need to get consecrated in Paris. Yet writing about this is not PC. it should only be done on a MAC because this place has style.
I meet therefore I am- a multinational soul. I shrink therefore I am part of — and apart from American, European and Asian culture. and the countries I visit(ed) and live(d) in are as eclectic and restless as airports I "inhabit". Along with the displacement, and the associated jet lag, I am simply a fairly glib product of a movable feast, living and working in a world that is itself increasingly small and increasingly hybrid---a transit lounger, forever heading to the departure gate.People come to airports and never leave
The cult of the amateur wanderers is growing; global souls who haven't been everywhere but it is on their list; for whom home is a feeling, not a place in the soil but inside yourself. I am one of the privileged homeless. Is there a new kind of person being created by a new kind of life?
"Every day is a journey," wrote Basho, "and the journey itself is home." If the Zen poet hadn't said that more than 300 years ago, I would have. I am Basho on a frequent flyer pass, with complimentary mojo on take off.
Where there's a Will, there's a play
I no longer am looking for love, I am taking it with me. Shakespeare a écrit «la fin de la réunion Journeys les amateurs, tout homme sage sait cela. Je vous remercie de me conduire à l'aéroport Isabelle! Je t'aime.