So, as I mentioned in one of my last posts that I have an issue with traveling from my own home, that a sense of agoraphobia keeps me from actually getting on the highway, or heading past a certain street. I am inclined to venture no more than where I can walk safely back home. And at this point, its roughly 2 miles, give or take. But the mind and its imagination are an amazing tool, and it doesn’t keep me from “traveling” to different parts of the world.
For instance, I spend most of my Saturdays in Britain. I don’t know why. But, I’m fond of the place. Perhaps it’s ancestral voices calling. I spend the majority of my day knitting and watching the classics. Absolutely Fabulous. Keeping Up Appearances. Are You Being Served? The Inbetweeners. The Vicar of Dibley. And then I softly set myself into the evening, where I slip into some Kate Bush and some Portishead and keep on working until the giddy, flirty laughter of Graham Norton gets me laughing just before bedtime.
And I have friends all across the globe that inspire that, as well. My friend Giovanni, an Italian man who ironically lives in the Netherlands, during our last call inspired me to have panzanella for lunch. Whenever we speak, I am inclined to have a cannelloni, or pick a photo off instagram of a slowly moving blue sea, and dream of mothers that shower you with delicate, rich dinners, of wine made on property, and of landscapes that tell tales of lands wrought with passions.
And a fondness for an email I once received from someone in Spain, which had me for the rest of the evening watching Pedro Almodovar films and eating tapas. Of laying on my back in a park gazing in wonder up at Gaudy, of broad squares where people mingle and linger at the end of the day with wine in one hand, their lover’s grasp in the other.
And emails I get from Germany that remind me of being a young man in Berlin, where I lived for five years, smelling brotchen being baked, where the tempting of the cold spirit is smashed by the impressiveness of the their determination to live boldly, where big men with steins brought me to my knees in sexual admiration, and tender women who batted lashes so well that I was inspired to write a book about it in my early 20’s.
So, just because I cannot physical go more than 2 miles without a panic attack doesn’t mean I don’t “travel” extensively. And each of you take me there. I love hearing from all of you, and your own genuine uniqueness and cultures. In a way, you invite me to share and enjoy them with you.
My bears have been all over the world at this point, and hearing of their journeys and where they arrive allow me some sort of ambassadorship.
There is a touch of hope and joy in my bears that has landed itself in so many countries and cultures. And in a way, I am afforded the same sort of travel and enjoy every minute of being there with you.
I spend time in my mind being with you wherever you are. And if I can’t? Then I’ll send a bear along in my place.
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