Who can describe exhilaration,
that swirl of joy,
fear, curiosity,
and adrenaline?
It’s the feeling
that comes
when we step to the edge
and look down
over the long drop
of a cliff or balcony.
It’s the feeling
that comes
when we escape danger,
realizing just how close
to disaster we had come.
It’s the feeling
that comes
when we have just
been surprised
by an unexpected gift.
It’s the feeling
that comes
as I step out
of the boarding tunnel
into the terminal.
It increases
with every step I take,
and I have my passport in hand
long before I reach customs.
-------
"How long will you be in Ireland?,"
the grey-haired man
behind the customs booth asks.
"Uhm, I'm not really sure.
I can stay as long as three months
without a Visa, right?"
He takes his eyes
away from my passport,
eyeing me suspiciously.
"Where are you going?"
"Well, I'm not sure
about that either.
I'll be backpacking
all over the country."
"Do you know anyone
in Ireland?"
"I'm going to meet
a couple who lives
in Charlestown
at some point,
but that’s all."
He looks my passport over
one more time.
He's not going to let me in
is he?
"Have a nice trip,"
he says as he hands over
my passport.
"Thanks, have a nice day."
I sigh in relief
as I put the passport
in my travel pouch
and head toward baggage.
-------
My pack looks as if
it had been at the bottom
of a huge pile.
I check it thoroughly.
Fortunately,
the only thing broken
was my last toaster pastry.
Unfortunately,
its package was open.
I carry my pack
into the bathroom
and try my best
to empty all of the
thousand crumbs
into the garbage,
cursing my foolishness
all the while.
Next stop:
the bank.
-------
I hand the teller my debit card.
"Can I get two hundred dollars
worth of pounds please?"
"Is one hundred fifty close enough,
or do you need it exactly?"
"Yeah, one hundred and fifty
is fine."
"Dumb American,"
he must be thinking.
I put fifty pounds
into my wallet
and hide the other one hundred
in my pouch.
All set.
As I head for the doors,
an uncontrollable smile
breaks across my face.
An unknown land awaits.
I will walk out,
take a good look
in all directions,
and begin walking whichever way
looks most interesting…
or perhaps not.
My brilliant plan shatters
as I walk out into the fog.
I can't see more than
a few hundred yards
in any direction.
The fog veils the morning sun
and the surrounding landscape,
forcing me to rethink
my feeble plan.
If I were to walk off
in a random direction
under such conditions,
who knows where
I’d end up?
The gravity of it all
slowly sinks in.
I have no clue what I’m doing.
My smile flattens.
After standing around
in cluelessness
for another minute or two,
I turn around and go back
to the seats
in the waiting area.
Feeling like a fool
for such lack of foresight,
I consult my map.
Limerick is close,
and I wanted to go there
at some point anyway,
so I may as well
go there first.
Once I’ve gotten
a place for the night,
I can figure out
where to go after that.
-------
The lady at the tourist booth
tells me the next bus
leaves in five minutes.
I have to ask her
where it picks up.
I can tell she’s tired
of stupid people
asking her stupid questions.
Must be a bad day
for clueless tourists.
Feeling a little less
enthusiastic,
I walk outside
to the Bus Eirann
waiting booth.
Even with the fog,
it’s not as cold as I expected.
In fact, carrying around
the thirty-five pound pack
makes it feel rather warm.
I stuff my trenchcoat in
with the rest of my belongings,
and enjoy the clinging coolness
of the damp air.
I’ve never been good
at waiting,
but, sitting here
on this bench,
I am able to enter
into the moment,
to relax, to be at peace,
to savor the wet-ground smell
of the Irish air.
Sudden realization dawns:
I’ve spent my whole life
trying to stay busy,
to avoid the stillness
that inevitably brings me
into conflict
with myself and my struggles.
I’ve missed so much of life
by failing to appreciate
the idle moments,
to examine in awe
the many splendid colors
of God’s creation,
to listen to the sound
of a wind-swept tree,
to enjoy the earthy smell
of a rainstorm about to break.
Have I even noticed
these things
since childhood?
Faith like a child,
yes, how necessary
it is.
What a fool I’ve been.
I’ve feared such moments
for so long.
I suppose deep down
I was afraid that silence
could only lead me back
to painful memories
that I kept hoping
would fade away.
It is quite the opposite.
The silence, I find,
leads me out of myself
into the world around me,
to a place where I can
look at the past
with a calm objectivity,
to face it without pain
so that I can begin
to move forward
rather than away.
It is strange
how such insights
come upon us
as if from nowhere,
like divine revelation
when we are most prepared
to hear them.
I’m in no particular hurry
to get to any specific place,
so I simply lean back,
content to exist,
and let the peace of the moment
settle deep
within.