The time waiting for a Super Shuttle pick up is always tenuous. It’s not like you can really relax and do anything because you know they’re coming. Any minute. Only if you’re like me, you start waiting for them an hour before they arrive.
I have never liked the time before heading off to the airport, particularly when I was a kid waiting to fly home from after a visit with my grandparents. Despite being happy to go home, I’d always be melancholy. I’d tear up knowing that a time was ending and that my heart felt tender. I was also that kid who was sad when school let out for summer… I am no different today. While I don’t get as sentimental leaving a hotel (although sometimes I grow fond of a place), departures and arrivals become microcosms of the transitions in our lives. And no matter how much I travel and how much I’ve both endured change and thrive on it, I also simultaneously resist it.
As I get older, I am even more aware of transitions. Some visits become our last. There suddenly are no grandparents to visit but one and no parents to return home to. The scenery changes as do the seasons and the years.
So what do we do in the gap, in this transition between one situation and the beginning of another? The Tibetans call this the bardo state. By definition, the word crystallizes the process of transition itself and its resulting chaos. Bar means “in-between” and do means “suspended” or “thrown”. It is “a continuous, unnerving oscillation between clarity and confusion, bewilderment and insight, certainty and uncertainty, sanity and insanity” (Rinpoche). In yoga, this is the space between the breaths; the shift from one position to the next.
In this space I believe we free fall, we notice, we surrender, we become. And so yes, I have to come to love waiting around as much as I hate it. How about you?