I’m sitting in my room with my sore feet (plantar fascitis) and I’m looking out on Beverly Hills on a perfect day and wishing I could get into the mix. My car is in the shop. It won’t start. It died thirty minutes before I had to give an introductory Alexander Technique lesson. I hope I provided a good model for the serene Alexander personality.
I don’t have any pain in my left foot. I’ve been good. I’ve followed my physical therapist’s orders. No walking. I hope the pain in my right foot is “localizing” as my PT puts it. So instead of my whole foot hurting, it’s just a point, and because the pain is more specific it feels worse, but it’s just the darkness before the dawn.
I love driving. It was discouraged in my upbringing. Too dangerous. We drove at least as much as regular folks but we got many warnings about its pitfalls. It wasn’t something you should enjoy.
I love the open road. It takes me away from my childhood, away from an unwanted self, away from the mess I’ve made of things.
I’ve always believed that the future will be better than the past. That the best is yet to come. I yearn to discover. I love speed. When the road flashes by, I feel like I’m experiencing more of life than when I just dawdle along.
It’s sexy to travel. You leave traditional morality and traditional community behind. You can do what you want. Hotels are the sexiest places in the world. All the frenzied couplings leave behind a vibe.
When you travel, people don’t know you. You’re free. You’re not watched over. There aren’t as many expectations on you.
When you change your schedule, change your place, life becomes vivid. More exciting. It’s like being young again. Everything is fresh. Everything is new.
