The Whole of Me

I finally got my first passport a few weeks ago. Which is surprising, seeing as how I live so close to Canada and one would think that I would have made some kind of attempt to cross that border. Canada hasn't ever had much appeal to me. When the mood strikes me to get out of town I don't typically have the desire to go somewhere COLDER. Though I know there are very beautiful areas in Canada, it doesn't seem like it oozes romance and excitement. The only time I see commercials for
Canadian travel is during the spring and summer when the Canadian tourism board wants to lure people to Prince Edward Island for lobster and whale watches. I can do that in my backyard. So, this might explain why the passport hasn't been a priority. Travel takes time and money, both of which I've been short on in the past few years, and the desire to see Europe and beyond has never enticed me... until now.

I have an obsession. Yes, I think it's safe to classify it as such. An obsession with time. Fleeting time, to be exact. I am constantly hit with thoughts about not having enough time to do the things I want to do, see the things I want to see... and more importantly, become the person I want to be. I've started looking at my life's seconds, minutes, hours, days, months and years as tangible. As if they are pages of a book, ripped out and lost to the wind forever. And somewhere, blowing around, are my pages; edges frayed, worn pictures and illegible words... blowing away to never be known again. I can literally see a white cloaked Father Time, with his long white hair and beard blowing in the breeze, holding the book of Alexandra...ripping the pages one by one. And as he tears them off, only he can see the length of story that remains. His face, stoic, yet also kind. I clearly see that image in my mind's eye and I become uneasy knowing that the way in which I spend my days aren't ways which will nurture the life I want for myself. I see the person I want to be, the person I could be, and I am running out of time.

The plan is to go to Italy in September or October 2010. I'm not completely sure what it's going to take to get me there, though I have a general sense of the cost that I'd be looking at. I haven't yet started diving into my research on Rome, Florence, Venice, museums, hotels, restaurants, train travel etc. Just the thought of it makes me salivate as for some unknown reason I feel like I can already taste the food and wine and smell the air. Not only am I seeking a new cultural experience, but I'm seeking a life experience... an "I am LIVING" experience. A chance to connect with the world. To extend beyond my everyday life and people. To be marked with new fingerprints of experience and joy. To simply, live. LIVE.

Do you know how many pages of the book of Alexandra look identical to each other? Day upon day... identical. No new experiences. Slow growth. Wasted time.

I see my future self in the distance, standing before me. I see her faintly and she sees me. And she puts her hand out and gestures for me to come to her. Sometimes, often times, I stand still... just staring at her wondering how I'll find her in the chaos of everyday living. But, then there are times that I make strides to get to her. And the closer I get to her, the more whole I become... the more whole I feel. She's good... so much better than I am. Though I am often panicked about the distance between us, she gazes at me with a knowing smile. A smile that says that we will find each other when the time is right. A smile that says there will be enough time to make it so.