Nor…What The F@%K?

I have a lot of What The F@%K moments- A Lot.

They usually come when I am being jostled, elbowed, poked, provoked by a stranger standing behind me in the TSA line.  Or when I am taking in my hundredth breath of stale air that smells of exhaust, good and bad anxiousness, and cigarette smoke.  Or when I am lingering, alone at the baggage carousel wondering… but where's my bag?  (All of those, by the way, happened to me at some point over the last 20-24 hours.  I'm not complaining... I mean, I guess I am technically complaining, but I'm getting to a much less bratty point in time.  Oh and my bag did make it.)

Which is to say that many of my WTF moments (careful now- that W can stand for many words) come at the airport.  Especially in the big International halls of JFK, Logan, CDG… What the F@%K am I doing here??

I have had that moment stranded in the middle of Beijing Airport, having missed a connecting overseas flight.  I have had that moment waking up after passing out on a flight from Heathrow to Munich, unsure of where I was, what I was doing there and how exactly I was buckled into my seat (the rather…ummm... handsy-looking German man beside me may have had something to do with that but I can never be sure) after having not slept for the previous 48 hours.  I have had that moment staring at the flight delay getting longer and longer and my next connection getting shorter and shorter.  I have had that moment getting straight Pissy with Customs Agents who were getting straight Pissy with me.

What the F@%K, Why the F@%K?  In all of these instances I find myself wondering just how much of a glutton for punishment traveling has turned me into.   I find myself thinking… What the F@%K is my end game this time?

And every time, every single time, it hits me all at once- all at once it makes sense.  Right now I am sitting at the kitchen (there's a distinct possibility that it counts as a dining room table) table of a man who I have not yet met but who was kind enough to let me in, in a manner of speaking.  In between the tap-tap-tapping of these computer keys, I can hear the beating heart of the harbor.  I sit here and I listen to waves that wakes of ferries make when as they pass by below me.  I can- well I could before- hear birds yakking.  And that's not even what made it make sense (although… it certainly has helped), not even the first AHA! Moment.. no, that moment looked a little like this:

After only watching clouds beneath the wing of my final flight to Stavanger, the final descent into the city's small airport yielded a break in them.  The surreal blue of the high sky was laced with the gold of the too-early setting sun.  And suddenly I could see this enrapturing country that I will call home until the end of the month.  I could see the sea, the land rising from it, and the larger land rising from that.

I could see it all and it was breathtaking.

It is breathtaking.

That is What the F@%K I am doing here- it is what the F@%K I an doing every time I follow my wandering, lusty heart to another place- to meet another people, to see another side of it all.  I am stockpiling those AHA! Moments, adding them to my spirit.

I collect them so that I may be better.

And until next time…. so much Love from such a Lovely place.