Brain Fog
Dear friend
The train vibrates, guffaws and whines its way through the Tuscan countryside. The hills and fields are green and the Italian kids are now on their three month summer break. It’s not all picturesque. A fields of rusty electricity pylons sprout amongst the corn as we pull into a crumbling concrete station. Beyond the wires the forested hills, two young men climbing down the platform crossing the railway lines with their luggage. The sky is blue and dotted with fluffy white clouds.
There are delays on the line which is a problem for me because I have a connection to make that if I miss it, I’ll almost definitely miss my plane home. We’ve just been informed of an extra fifteen minute delay on top of the previous ten, and so I need to switch on my brain and figure out alternatives. Hence the brain fog. Anxiety is flooding my body, no pun intended, but it’s fight or flight kicking in. I’m not in danger but now my body thinks I am. The problem solving part of my brain is having precious energy diverted away to other areas involved with physical survival. It’s making the train app I’m using confusing and frustrating to operate or understand.
It would help if I could sketch out alternatives on paper but I’ve only digital on me. I start copy and pasting screen shots of stations and connections and times. Was that 14.26 or 13.27? I’m starting to struggle with linearity. When did that train arrive in Orte? Is that the only place I can get a connection? How much will it cost in time and money to miss the flight? I’ve never missed a flight before I had a feeing I was cutting it a bit fine when I booked. It’ll be a couple of hundred quid, worst case scenario, but that money could be used for other things, is that the basis of the anxiety?
What happened to trusting the universe?
The false self is wading in sensing an opportunity. It makes a weak attempt at mentally lambasting the train company. That slides off down a siding and ends in a limpid pool of mess. The money. Always a good shot, but you know it’s not a life or friendship that’s at stake here. We’re not going to starve or be turfed out into the streets. I’ve never missed a flight before. Did I do bad? Does this make me a bad person? Non of it is landing, but there was a time it might’ve.
Snatches of an old tv show float into view, reality tv, people missing planes as entertainment. This stuff happens all the time. Katie’s sister and her family once missed a flight that cost them thousands to rebook.
The pressure to play the victim becomes too much to bear. I write Chiara a message, peppered with expletives predicting an unfavourable outcome. She’s on the case in minutes and slowly the fog begins to clear a little. She berates herself for not helping me more when booking the tickets, but neither of us believes that. Sharing the problem really does make it better.
When you’re in a jam you don’t need anyone pointing out how dumb you are, you’re already way ahead of them on that, what you need is not to feel alone with it.
She’s certain I’ll make the plane. Be strong she says. We go back and forth, this alternative, nope, ah but what about..no not that. When is your flight again? Oh, okay, and so it goes on and we make a plan. I wrestle back willpower from the false self, who sulkily kicks the ball into the long grass. Resentfully skulking in the shadows, casting doleful glances my way, never letting me out of its sight.
I get off the train at Orte and the guy at the ticket office is fluent in English and reckons our plan is good one. My best chance of making the flight.
New train tickets booked, and a plausible plan in place the fog clears leaving nothing much more than a tide mark. My blood is still pumping cortisol and adrenalyn but I can make sense of the world again.
It’s now that I remember the saints and gurus and angels as I turn the word determination over in my mind. I tell them what I want and call upon them for help. Get me on that plane please. The trick is to keep the mind occupied with the desired outcome, and off the thing you’re trying to avoid. Looking at the downside is necessary for as lang as it takes to get to grips with what you’re facing, once the plan’s in place, the deal is to act on it.
“Come on then, guide me, show me where to go, who to speak to, get me on that plane.” I’ll arrive at the airport an hour before departure. It’s going to be tight but inside, I know I’m going to make it.
It’s hot on the platform and there are some elderly American couples travelling in the opposite direction equally bemused by the situation. The worse thing in the world is to feel alone. I think we can bear anything as long as we know we’re connected to some other living being.
It takes me twenty minutes running full pelt from getting off the train at Fuimiciono airport, through security and passport control to the British Airways gate at terminal three. The main delays were a slow moving nun in full habit blocking the way as I tore along the electric travelator and my fancy ‘earth grounding sandals’ setting off the metal detectors and earning me a pat down by the security guards. It made me laugh inside, and was openly amusing for the Italians watching, I mean the nun and the sandals, I guess a little joke at my expense, from the universe.
The plane’s air conditioning is set so high it was making dry ice, and I’m feeling a bit peckish, but they’re giving out salt and vinegar flavoured biscuits and small bottles of water and I’m happy to be on the flight. It’s only been four days since I flew out of London. So much happens when you travel. To be fair the world is so rich in experience you could say that of sitting still at home. The rain. The wind blowing sweet wrappers and cartons down the street, birds overhead. Mums and dads dragging their kids through the streets. If you think you know what’s going on here it’ll be your false self that’s doing the knowing.
The brain fog’s gone now.
I hope it’s warm in the UK because I’m dressed for an Italian July.
Part of me was saying not to come back. Maybe that’s the part that created the drama of the journey. I’ll be back soon enough.
It’s a beautiful country though.
And an astonishing planet.
And it’s sunny London.
And I feel incredibly fortunate to be part of it all.
To be connected to so many wonderful people.
Till tomorrow
Love
Mikey
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