Slow Travel

I wrote the following while I was on my way to my sister's for the Thanksgiving holiday.



I write this from a train car headed to my Thanksgiving destination. I am headed there slowly. And I am ok with that.



Don't get me wrong. I am very excited about the prospect of high speed rail. But right now I am on a low speed rail, made slower by a freight train derailment that delayed the arrival of this train by over 6 hours, but for me those hours were found time spent at home, not endless hours trapped in a train car, as was the fate of the passengers around me who boarded the train earlier from points west.



Now, I sit by the window, the jostling of the train moving along these old tracks lulls me to sleep. When I wake, I read some, write some, grade some papers, listen to music and at times just sit and think.



I like this pace.



I get nervous on airplanes. I still fly, but when I took my first train trip I realized that when the train began to roll it did simply that; it gently rolled. Absent was the fear in the pit of my stomach that begins as soon as the airplane engines roar to life, a fear the accelerates at the same pace as the speed of the plane as it prepares to lift off.




Someone just inquired and it seems that we have three hours left until we arrive. "Just three hours!" she said. Piece of cake.




Sometimes you are forced to slow down and if you don't fight it, it can be quite delicious. It can be just what you need.




Wishing you balance,



Nancy