The Divine-less and the Divine

When I mention my mom’s 35 years of work at American Airlines and the associated benefits that this allows me, it surely sounds quite enviable.  Quite frankly, it is pretty awesome.  I don’t have to commit to any particular dates for flights and I generally pay a fantastically discounted fare.  I am damn lucky.

Now, consider the following...

Joni Mitchell’s ‘Both Sides Now’ is one of my favorite songs.  Just as Joni explains about the clouds and love and life, there is a less than lovely side to this world of a non-rev passenger.  Flying stand-by on a bad day can be painful.  I was feeling a bit of that pain on Saturday morning. 

Like the 700 grams of cheese in Linl Richards’ fridge (see preface), I would really love to debrief the details of this.  I will, however, exercise self-control and simply say that I had to make approximately 8000 calls to Qantas and Jetstar and wait in a ticket counter line three times in the space of 1.5 hour.  I had to deal with some bitchy people, and I had to irritate the hell out of Big Bad Betty.  Worst of all, I had to deal with my own raging anxiety. 

I prevailed, though.  The end point of my journey made the raging anxiety and my frugal mental calculations about phone credit and the cost of airport transfers all worth it.

On the origin of the flight: I was in Byron Bay.  It was the first time in a long time that I was truly alone.  That was weird.  Even weirder was the fact that I had been told that Byron Bay was a laidback hippy town of New Age bonanzas.  I, however, did not get that impression at all.  I found (seemingly) wealthy family-oriented Australian holidaymakers and young backpackers who were hungry for sex and drugs (see Emily's similar experience).  I may well have loved Byron if I was in either of those camps.   I wasn't, though.  So, instead, I was lying on the beach, wondering what all the hype was about and lamenting that I would not be sleeping well for the next few days.

Then inspiration hit!  Bec and Nick!  Get the hell out of here, and go visit your friends now!

So, that is when my standby battle ensued at the airport. 

I won the battle (though the war will continue throughout the Greatest Hits Tour), and at the end I found Bec and Nick and their warm greeting.  We went for a swim in the ocean baths and watched a bit of NBA while sipping on Negronis.  We dined and wined.  The next day was Nick’s birthday, and we spent it in beautiful Nelson Bay (more beautiful, I must say, than Byron).  I witnessed the incredible love and kindness of Bec’s family and pondered the advantages of living in close proximity to family.  I had my own room with my own bed in a beautiful house with two funny dogs.  And, I experienced again the comfort and ease and joy that goes along with the presence of wonderful friends.     

When I am lucky in the standby flying experience, it feels like the universe is conspiring to support my travels.  When I am unlucky in the standby flying experience, I end up in a very complicated mental conversation about whether or not I am meant to be making the trip at all.  From my recent experience, I have determined that there is nothing divine about standby flights or the moments of luck or lack thereof.  Whether the trip is easy or hard, I inevitably find something divine at the other end, especially when the destination involves dear friends. 

The Divine Ripple Effect

In December 2011, a bit of travel magic brought Ciara Denham and her interestingly undetectable Irish accent into my life.  I was in La Paz, Bolivia, and I was feeling fatigued on the stock standard backpacker conversation.  Despite my anti-social-ness, I found myself in a greatly entertaining chat with two Israeli dudes over the hostel’s free pancake breakfast.  In the midst of the laughter, Ciara became involved, and I knew almost immediately that we would be great friends if we lived in the same place.  We philosophized about romance and dissected emotions.  We attended a WWF-style Bolivian wrestling match and went on a mini-adventure to some random ruins.  We drank fresh squeezed juices and shared life histories.  And, then, we carried on in separate directions, armed with email addresses but without any idea if we would ever see each other again.

That is usually where these travel buddy stories end.  However, I decided to give life in Australia a go.  Ciara had already been giving it a go in Brisbane for a few years.  Melbourne and Brisbane are not at all in close proximity, but being in the same country gave us greater inspiration to correspond, mainly in the form of me encouraging her to move to Melbourne immediately.  She did not relocate, but she did visit.  When I started planning my Greatest Hits Tour, I booked a ticket to Brisbane thinking that it was a good idea to experience the Queensland sunshine and an even better opportunity to catch up with a friend.

BUT, part of the reason that Ciara and I connected was our mutual rolling stone nature.  I had not factored in her possible presence in other landscapes.  Unfortunately, she had flights sending her away from Australia indefinitely.  Bummer.

ENTER DIVINE INTERVENTION!

Two weeks before her departure date, she met a man.  Oh, and not just any man.  She met an extraordinarily good man.  The type of man who gives you a reason to dramatically change your plans.  There were lightning bolts and fireworks and an almost scary sense of certainty. 

So.

Ciara changed her plans.  She pushed back her departure date, and she turned a search for a new life into a three week holiday back to Ireland.  This meant that she was present for my Brisbane visit after all.  Yay!

The magic of this romance is the type about which I daydream.  It is the sort of thing that Ciara and I theorized about in the high altitudes of the Andes .  It is the sort of story that makes me insanely jealous, but it also makes me feel insanely inspired and hopeful.

Who knows what will happen with Ciara and Matt (that is the name of the extraordinarily good man) in the long run (though my intuition says this is the beginning of something that will last the test of time).  What I do know is that it was beautiful to witness their fresh, true, deep, passionate connection for my few days in Brisbane.  I also know that as divine as the intervention was for her love life, I believe that Ciara meeting Matt was divine intervention in the name of our friendship as well.  If Matt had not come along, it might have been a long, long time until our paths crossed again.  All of this was certainly divine for the Greatest Hits Tour, too.  Suddenly, I had a place to sleep, a dinner party date, an assortment of great recommendations, and the best company I could have asked for in the West End bar scene. 

So, perhaps ‘extraordinarily good’ is not a sufficient adjective to describe Matt.  Matt is divine.

Leaving a bit behind (Wellington, New Zealand)

On my first day back in Wellington, the cashier at the Island Bay New World said IT -- the city's signature phrase:  "You can't beat Wellington on a good day."

My thought:  "You can't beat Wellington on any day."

As the plane began its descent that morning, I felt a wave of relief and appreciation.  It felt like coming home.  And, that felt good.

It was just the right start to Anna's Greatest Hits Tour.  I liked the trip being bookend-ed by homes.  I liked starting off by regrouping in a place without sites to see or things to tick off the list.  I liked the familiarity and the way so many corners and cafes spoke to me of memories from potentially the greatest chapter of my life.  And, I really, really, really liked being in the company of such great friends.

Too much gushing?  It serves a purpose - setting the context.  All of this sentimentality, nostalgia, and beauty made for the perfect backdrop for a symbolic, bold act.

You already know where this is going.  I cut off my dreads!

This felt like a huge deal for me, which explains why it took me over a year to work up the courage and vague sense of certainty to make it happen.  The dreads were the one long-term commitment I had made over the last seven years (...though it was sort of an accidental commitment).  Over a time in my life that has been so transient and changing, the dreads were one of few things that were constant.  They knew all about the hard and the good and the love and the loss over my adulthood.  They had come to feel like an extension of my personality.  I loved carrying all of that around on my silly little head, but it was becoming a bit heavy (figuratively and literally), and it seemed I had some letting go to do.

So, I gathered three of the world's great women, and I asked them to embrace my New Age tendencies for an Anna designed de-dreading ceremony.  We set up a station on the deck of the famous Freeling Street flat, looking out at Island Bay as dusk approached.

Lovely Island Bay

 The Lovely Ladies (minus Anna Costley who was on paparazzi duty)

Before we began, I gave a brief speech and we discussed the significance of seven year cycles.

Then, I cut the first dread!

WOAH!

Nicole cut the rest.

Skillz.

I had prepared a list of memories/events/emotions I wanted to honor from my dreadlocked days and a list of thoughts/feelings of which I wanted to let go, adding up to a total of approximately 58 points (one for each dread).  As we proceeded, I read my list.    

Joe Blossom provided the soundtrack with the sounds of their band practice drifting from the garage.  They came to check out what was going on at the very end of the cutting, curious about what the screaming and laughing and crying was all about.

Get in there, Phill!

Eli did a bit of serenading as well, including a beautiful waiata.

When it was finished, they brought out a mirror.  I looked at my reflection, Anna's gran, Nicole's smile, and beautiful Island Bay and said, "TAKE IT ALL OFF!"

And, so they did.

The next obvious question:  what did I do with them?  I set aside 10 of my favorites to keep (or ???).  I burned one (as well as the 'let go list').  I buried the rest -- half under a tree in the town belt with a beautiful view of the city (from a vantage point that I could imagine seeing just about every significant location of my Wellington world) and half in the back garden of the Thompson Street house (where I had lived and where a few dear friends still reside).   It felt really right to leave a bit of me behind in Wellington.

Now, I feel free and truly ready for a new chapter.

My Compulsion to Preface

My dear friend, Doctor Love, informed me this week of the existence and intrigue of Mormon Mommy Blogs.  Somehow, this was the proverbial camel that broke my blog resisting, under-chiropractic-ized back.  If the Mormon Mommies can do it, so can I!

So, there I was, sitting in front of my Nasi Goreng, knowing I was ready to make a commitment to the internets.  Nonetheless, I avoided taking the leap.  I felt paralyzed by the need to choose a topic.  Unlike the Mormon Mommies, I do not have multiple husbands and multiple children and a smart phone on which to Instagram multiple daily images of such a clan.  I am not keen on sharing cheesy quotes or recipes for peanut butter cookies or children's games about the holy spirit.  Where, then, does that leave me?

I knew that I would likely feel quite fulfilled to write about the most mundane moments of my day -- the sort of detailed debrief to which I subject my closest friends.  Just days ago, I found deep satisfaction from explaining the sequence of analytic steps I took to deliver 700 grams of tasty cheese to Linsell Richards' refrigerator.  Surely there would be a few people in my readership who would enjoy the telling of this consumer tale (Doctor Love, perhaps?).  Still, I feel that Doctor, the blogosphere, and my ego deserve more.

If you know me -- and I'm assuming you do -- you have likely observed or dissected with me a trend that suggests I struggle to focus or make long-term commitments.  Now, here I am, trying to make a simple commitment to myself to regularly post to this blog (mainly out of self-indulgence and ego), and my usual internal dialogue is raging:  What if I choose a theme, and I end up disliking it?  Or, maybe I will choose a theme that is not my ultimate theme, and what is the point of expending my energy on something that is not my perfect fit?  I mean, what is the blog topic of my dreams?

Do you see what I'm doing here?

I do.  Because I do it ALL THE TIME.  WITH EVERYTHING.

I am waiting for divine intervention to inform me of the blog theme that is best suited to me.  My cosmic blog theme.  The blog theme that will bring me eternal happiness.  The blog love of my life.

[insert lightning bolt!!!]

[!!!]

Am I having a moment of divine intervention informing me to write about divine intervention?

I am still not sure if the answer is 'yes' or 'no'.  BUT, I know that I have a theme (at least for a start).  This will be a space to share with you the other lightning bolts and sacred symbols and hardcore serendipity and absolute delights that I imbue with meaning and amazingness as i proceed with Anna's Greatest Hits Tour.

So, friends, please indulge me...