travel time

I spent my weekend (five days long…love having random school breaks) in Las Vegas. I had a fabulous time and didn’t want to ever leave (read: Chloe hates living in the snow, especially when all of her darling nieces and nephews live in warm, sunny, happy places). However, flying is one of my favorite things to do, so I at least welcomed the trip back to Utah.

I have flown often enough throughout my life, and especially over the last two years, that I have it down. I know which shoes I can and should wear. I know how to pack so that my liquids and laptop are at the ready when I need to remove them for security. I know what to pack on the plane (if I’m checking things) so that I have what I need for the flight. I’ve learned to not cut it so close that I end up annoyed by everyone who doesn’t know how to travel well. I don’t even mind turbulence (okay…I actually enjoy it sometimes). Basically, I have this flying stuff down (minus that one time when I left my passport in a German taxi). All of these things contribute to the reasons why I don’t dislike flying. But the reason I like flying is that I am completely disconnected for anywhere from an hour to eight, depending on the flight.

I don’t know if you know this about me, but I have a somewhat addictive personality (read: if I have tried something and like it, I’m pretty much addicted to it). This holds true of being technologically connected at all times. I honestly get depressed sometimes if I haven’t received enough emails or phone calls throughout the day. I am constantly checking to see if I have text messages. With my fabulous iPhone, I am connected 24/7 (and I don’t really get people who aren’t). But when I’m on a plane, I’m totally free…once the door closes and I have to turn off my phone. (Tonight, I was talking to my sister right until the point that the flight attendant walked by glaring at me.)

And during this disconnected time, I get to connect with myself; my thoughts, my feelings, my plans for the future. I get to have a deep conversation with me. (This is also why I love the gym…I refuse to take my phone in with me, however, the swearing that is often happening internally…and sometimes externally…often gets in the way of deep, meaningful internal dialogue.) Could I feasibly do this at home, without having to fly somewhere? Sure. Do I? Nope. Not ever. I don’t have that kind of discipline.

So, tonight, as I flew from Vegas to Salt Lake, I had some time to just think. It was fantastic. And what did I think about…besides the guy snoring loudly next to me? Decisions and sacrifices.

Rather than share with you the details of this internal dialogue, I think for now I will just leave you with that. Decisions and sacrifices. Some food for thought.

As a parting side note (although I think it much more focal than peripheral), I’m going to go ahead and share with you the etymology of the words sacrifice and decide (I love etymology):

Decide: From French décider or Latin decidere ‘cut off, decide’, from de- + caedere ‘cut’.

Sacrifice: From Latin sacrificium, the noun sacrifice, from the verb sacrificare, from sacer, sacred, + -ficium, deed, from the verb facere, do or make.

*I’ll share the minutiae of my inner dialogue tomorrow…for my own sake, although feel free to read all about it.

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