delight: a shuttle through time
initially journaled: sept. 12, 2022
sometimes i wonder if i can locate the source of my wanderlust, a deep desire to uncover mysteries, a longing to swiftly shuttle through space and wallow in time. this morning, during my meditation, i came to a close approximation. raised by the livelihoods of eight women, i quickly learned that the world has no limits. the times of their lives condensed into bite-size morsels of lessons. i was given advice on who to trust, how to love, where to travel, what to do. with these women by my side, i traversed decades of space and traveled centuries in time before i was even old enough to tie my shoe. once capable of folding one bunny ear, two, my younger aunts had grown fond of welcoming me into their worlds, welcoming me to join them in their travels of time and their adventures in space.
this morning, i see my pudgy hands pressed against a train window and i hear the voice of my auntie binki narrating the landscape before me, we’re about to go under a tunnel and then we’ll have to get on a smaller train. i believe my auntie binki took me on my first train ride, a beloved form of passage for me. zooming in time, the rush of the train teleporting me closer to a future where i, too, was a successful working woman. and we arrive at her work in a worldly wharf, no space inspires a wandering spirit more than new york city, where countries are compressed into blocks and the globe sits before your eyes from the glass door of a bodega. buttered bagel in one hand and my auntie’s arm in the other, i craned my neck to see the lengths of space stretched by steel creations touching the sky.
and i remember a sleek place within the walls of a towering edifice, a place that made me watch my stumbling feet extra carefully. high ceilings painted white, an accent wall of windows that led to the street. a cafe reminiscent of a heavenly-like order bumbling with the worlds of each person coming and going. and i remember thinking that one day my work would be so important and valuable that i would be paid to sit in a high tech cafe to think and type and take very important calls.
and still, to this day, to this exact morning, my inner child returns to this memory of space. hand in hand, with my guide, one of my many moms shows me a comfort, a temporal transport, a memory to return to. in this cafe, i see the world before my little eyes, people of all styles with all interests buzzing about in this port of the world. and i stand ready to give my contributions. a taste of my desire on the tip of my tongue. an offering to my inner otherworldliness.
