A Week Later

So I'm finally on my way to getting over the jetlag, which was much harder to shake this time...I think it's a combination of factors, not just the time difference but the cultural difference, the difference in me...before I went on this trip, many people said "this is going to change your life!" and it has, but I don't know exactly how. I don't think I'll ever be able to put a finger on it, it's more profound and intangible than that. Back in the United States, things look different. I see certain things more than I did before, certain things less. I feel wide open to new possibilities, new ways of seeing, new ways of creating. I know this is vague, but how to explain a personal transformation when you are in the middle of it?

It's certainly clear to me that this trip came at a time where I was already moving into a different space, a different set of priorities. The timing, the place, the experience--it was meant to be, and whatever comes from it is also meant to be.

In any case, I've gotten a lot of positive feedback on this blog...I'm glad that people have enjoyed it. I will keep writing, maybe I'll start to figure out how all of what I posted so far carries me into the next phase of my life as an artist....

Reentry

I am back in the United States after 30-plus hours of travel...suffering culture shock, to be sure. I spent the last few days in Africa in Cape Town, which is without a doubt the most stunningly-located city I've ever seen, but also provided a convenient cultural buffer. It didn't feel like what I think Africa to be at all. South Africa, overall, is a surreal place--I hate to make that claim without thorough explanation, but I've certainly tried on this blog. I've met many white South Africans who seem intent on letting me know over and over again about how absolutely fabulous it is there, with their insecurities and worries spilling out between every word...clearly they are anxious, or at the very least have an inferiority complex. Understandable, it's a country in the midst of upheaval, very much in transition, and no one knows exactly what will happen. It's strange to see fancy suburbs butting up against informal settlements where wood and tin shacks crowd up against one another for miles and miles...it's strange to sense that white people are still running the show in many respects...

Nonetheless, when the plane took off, I felt such sadness to leave--in French, to take off is "decoller", literally to unstick. When we unstuck, I thought of the times when I'm trying to peel off an adhesive label and some stubborn white fibers always remain behind...I think I left some small pieces behind, which is not a bad thing--it means I have to go back, and it means that a part of me will always be there, and will continue to remind me of the profound experiences I had, the lessons learned.

Now I feel my job is to hold onto those lessons and integrate them with what I love about being here--always tricky when I first get back to the States from a trip abroad to a culture or cultures that invariably values things like family, community, and the arts more highly than we do here...but there is so much to love here as well--that I can do what I love and find the support for it, that I have the opportunity to travel as an artist...the list goes on and on.

So what are the lessons learned? I'm still working on formulating those in a neatly packaged format...to be continued...