An Appreciation
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Another evening away from home…

The problem with…

One of the problems with spending so much time away…

Amongst the many problems with spending so much time in hotels, away from your carefully cultivated ‘nest’, is the problem of getting any writing done.
To be fair, the nest wasn’t so much cultivated, as it kinda just evolved, over time.
But the chair in the hotel is just exactly too short, or too stiff, or not at the right angle, or it doesn’t even recline… and etc., etc., etc… 

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The light hits the computer at all the wrong angles.
The room doesn’t smell right.
There are other people in the hotel, which means you have to be civil – to people you don’t even know… at all…
I don’t know about you, but it takes a lot of energy to be polite to people I don’t know.
(I suppose, if you want to be technical about it, it takes a great deal of energy for me to be polite to anyone… at all…)

270433.full(with apologies to Little Old Lady Whoooo, and all poets everywhere…)

But I think the real reason isn’t that the light is wrong, as much as it’s different.
It shines at different angles, and from directions that are unfamiliar, and thus fascinating.
A three pane window, with diamond-shaped louvers reveals the light in a different manner than a window composed of two two-paned horizontal windows.
In my nest, the sun sets directly in my eyes at this time of the year.
At the hotel where I am now, that is not the case.

That, more than any other reason, is why we need to travel – to expand our horizons, and see the world from other vantages.
Because we become habituated to that with which we are so familiar.
We forget how very much of a Fairytale our life can be.
If we will only let it be so.
If we will only retain our ability to see the magic that is all around us.

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The light outside is passing through leaves of an unusual color, than those I am used to.
There is a quiet strangeness to the gloaming – the twilight creeps upon me shod in velvet slippers of an unusual cut, and color.
There’s almost a hushed expectancy in the air – the type of quiet one experiences in those places long inhabited by man, but yet retaining their unhurried pace.

Ah…
There it is…
There’s the spirit of this new place that I was looking for.
And, as always, it was not the spirit of the place which had withdrawn – but only my own ability to get out of my own way, and let this place speak for itself.

And now.
At last.
I think I shall find myself with more inner quiet time.
Now…
At last…
Now that I’ve finally managed to find the ‘correct’ attitude towards my new, if temporary, nest.

Excuse me, while I go appreciate my beloved light in an unfamiliar setting…

 

Images found at http://www.gocomics.com

 

 

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