I'm frantically trying to jot down details because it still feels hard to write. I wonder whether just writing badly will help me get back into the rhythm of forming coherent sentences.
My notebook has the following bullet points:
I start wondering what Brighton is like. We're going there tomorrow.
"Con leche?" a tender woman asks when bringing out our coffees, anchoring me back to the restaurant.
Details.
I can see a woman cooking dumplings in the restaurant across the path from us. I make a note of her yellow shirt, her meticulous care in unloading the dishwasher while a man carries in boxes of fresh produce. God I want those dumplings later.
My difficulties in being present are making it hard to do, I'm experiencing, yes, but not doing. Whenever I encounter a moment of stillness, I am thinking about something else. I've stopped thinking about work (finally) but now I'm thinking about what I'll be doing later.
Why is it so hard for me to be still and engage? Am I that out of practice?
I'm a kinesthetic processor (if you've seen me play with my hair during a conversation, that's why), so I walk and reflect and think I know what's going on. My efforts to cope with the frequent sensory overload I felt this year means that I've started tuning out details (sensory overload is when you've consumed so much stimuli that everything starts to feel overwhelming). Processing a new city, new job, new friends, new routines, and a new roommate in a new home left me mentally drained a lot. So I filtered out the details to get through the day without needing to nap every 2 hours.
But noticing and then sharing details is what I enjoy about traveling. How do I re-engage these parts of my brain? How do I switch gears?
Practice, I guess.
I sit in a park and I try to notice, one sense at a time.
I see children and families on their afternoon walks. I see a young girl, maybe seven years old, with a sparkly backpack with a half-kitten, half-mermaid on it. It says "purr-maid in training." She's smiling. And, now, so am I.
My notebook has the following bullet points:
- Brixton Market smells moist & like fresh fish(??)
- The floor is green.
- Most of the shops sell imported fabrics or freshly made food. Good shops for costumes/drag.
- Mural of Lebanese actors with Arabic words peppered on the wall.
It's a place to start.
It feels hard to write because it's hard to be present. I can't figure out why, but I won't wallow in that thought right now. I'm moving on. Gotta start with details. Okay. Connor and I are sitting in the patio of Caroica Brazilian Cuisine, waiting for our Ipanema brunch specials.
"Con leche?" a tender woman asks when bringing out our coffees, anchoring me back to the restaurant.
Details.
I can see a woman cooking dumplings in the restaurant across the path from us. I make a note of her yellow shirt, her meticulous care in unloading the dishwasher while a man carries in boxes of fresh produce. God I want those dumplings later.
My mind wanders again, so I try to focus on the Portuguese music.
Why is it so hard for me to be still and engage? Am I that out of practice?
But noticing and then sharing details is what I enjoy about traveling. How do I re-engage these parts of my brain? How do I switch gears?
Practice, I guess.
I sit in a park and I try to notice, one sense at a time.
I see children and families on their afternoon walks. I see a young girl, maybe seven years old, with a sparkly backpack with a half-kitten, half-mermaid on it. It says "purr-maid in training." She's smiling. And, now, so am I.
