In a holding pattern

I am a plane, gliding through the clouds, in sight of the landing strip but forced by the tower to circle endlessly, to gaze from afar, to pine.

This is limbo, a land that no one wants to inhabit. It is not a scary place, nor is it joyful. It is the waiting lounge of life, a place for drifters.

I am in a situation where I am floating – a man caught between the land of his past and the land of the future. There is lot to love about both, so many memories inhabit the land of the past and there is potential in the future.

This is a time where the mind is constantly conflicted. Which gets the focus? The present is the easy answer – people will say to just enjoy the moment, make the most of time you have left in your current town. This is great advice and, at times, easy to take on board. But the nature of the human brain is that it drifts. Thinking occupies time, dreams of what lays ahead, dreams of what has passed.

I have decided to take this advice on board. I aim to make the most of the month I have left here, to get out and meet new people, catch up with old acquaintances, dine with lifelong friends and soak up the surroundings.

Yes, I may return one day to this fine city, but these times will never be here again. You cannot bottle a moment; it lives on in memory only.

So I am about to knock on the cockpit door, take control of the aircraft; quit the endless circling of the airport and set course back to the present. I still have time to make the most of this month, to create lasting memories and leave without regrets.

Then in a month, I can board the plane and whisk myself away towards the horizon of opportunity. What a trip it promises to be.

Beaches

I have just returned from a delicious lunch with a friend who is visiting from the UK. In the course of a chat over a Vietnamese feast fit for 10 (eaten by 2), she remarked how she was not a beach lazing holidayer, more a trekking, sightseeing, photographing, generally doing kind of traveller. The idea of spending umpteen thousand dollars to go sit on a beach, get a tan, occasionally swim and not touch even the faintest skerrick of a foreign culture does not appeal to her. Nor to me to be honest.

Is this an Aussie phenomenon? Are we so blasé about tropical getaways because a large percentage of our population lives so close to the ocean? I know plenty of people who holiday to the Whitsundays, Gold Coast, Byron Bay – you name it – but rarely are they from a city/town close to the beach. Why spend the time and money to travel to a beach when one is a short walk, drive or bus ride away?

I am soon to be relocating to the Sunshine Coast of Australia, a laid-back area 90km north of Brisbane. It is the holiday destination of thousands every year and many people go for a week and stay for years. It is exciting but not the beach part so much. Admittedly I am not the hugest beach person but I like a trip to the sand and salt water as much as the next man. It is the lifestyle I am looking forward to – the climate, the slower pace, the lack of planes, trains and anything else that emits 150+ decibel noises with unnerving regularity. Not the beach. To me it is an added extra. This is due to the fact that I have had ready access to the beach for the past 18 months and let’s be honest, so many times in life we take what we have for granted. If I was moving to Canberra or the bush I would be crying about the lack of beach – perspective is needed at all times.

People like many different things about the beach – for some it is the salt spray, others the sand littered with scantily clad bronzed beauties, some the sound of the rolling waves crashing into the shore, others the feel of the sand between their toes as they take their morning run. It is the image of the eternal summer that gives the beach its pull on our psyche.

I have come to realise lately that we need to be happy with what we have and never take it for granted. This is easy in theory but hard in practice. Too many of us crave the unknown, that which is out of reach or unattainable. Get out and enjoy the beach, lake, river, paddock, mountain, lookout, walking track – get out and make the most of what is on your doorstep for one day it may all change.

Me, I’m going to head north, embrace a new life and go to that beach. I will go there, soak up what it has to offer and enjoy it. That way if I ever find myself in an office in London, in the dark, staring out of my cubicle at a sleety, grey murk outside I can dream of that beach and the times I spent there – and avoid jumping out of the office window for one more day.

Thinking

One of the features that defines being human, that separates us from the animals is a consciousness, a sense of self. Thinking is a major component of being human; an essential cog in an intricate machine.

Thinking is the single greatest contributor to our state of mind – without thoughts we would not be human. Thoughts of all shapes and sizes swirl through our heads, thousands a day and we seemingly have no control over them. Most of us are at the mercy of our thoughts – they can bring you to a state of ecstasy, provide crisp clarity, cloud our days and drive us to the depths of despair. To even attempt to control our thoughts is a process steeped in complexity, riddle and mystery.

I have never really had control over my thoughts. They have always won the battle, controlled the play, and held all the cards. I have made progress; thoughts do not rule me like they once did, I can now watch them come like a wave, and then wash away again. This is a breakthrough, as thoughts need to be tamed. Someone once told me that you need to cut the thought off at the thought stage, or it becomes an action or emotion and then behaviour. This was a revelation as I had never broken it down in my mind, examined the process. To me thinking was like breathing, an ingrained part of being alive – no one thinks to breath, to pump blood through his or her veins – it just happens.

Lately I have been doing a lot of thinking. A favourite author of mine spoke of one of his characters seeing things in his mind that were not real, but could be, and it was that possibility that drove him mad, drove him to murder. Shakespeare also used this ploy with many of his characters, planting seeds of thought in another’s mind and then casually, slowly, and purposefully sowing those seeds until the desired outcome was reached. This often resulted in bloody murder, torture and mental anguish, the staples of medieval entertainment.

It is amazing how thoughts can creep up on you, waiting patiently for the most opportune time to strike. They can floor you or raise your spirits in an instant. I have had many conflicting emotions of late, my focus flitting between scenarios, concepts and memories with unnerving speed and vigour. It has not been pleasant, but life can be like that. The key is to not focus on the thoughts, to not entertain them, don’t invite them into the confines of your mind, as they will spill their drinks, stub their cigarettes on your couch and kick the cat. They need to be kept at the fence line and vetted with stringent and thorough critique.

I have been trying to focus on all the positive things I am privileged to have in my life – the friends, family, material goods, health, memories and experiences. Life for me is not all apples but nor is it misery and doom. There is a lot to be thankful for, a lot to cherish. When the thoughts circle I am ready to be selective on which I consider and which are confined to the scrap heap.

I wish you the best with your thoughts, let them influences you, excite you and enthral you, just don’t let them rule you. It is a fine balancing act.