I am almost there.

To Bali, that is. I’m sitting in the Hong Kong airport, where I landed before the sunrise Saturday morning, and strangely it is still Friday back home. I missed the entire day of Friday this week but that’s ok, next week I get an extra-long Saturday.

Funny, Asia was never on my bucket list of destinations but now that I am confined by the wide glass windows of this airport, peering out at the lush mountains masquerading behind filmy clouds, I want to leave the airport and go explore. I want to plant my feet and see what this side of the world is all about. I want to learn a new way of being, simply by observing, immersing, and tasting.

In less than two hours, I will board my final leg of this journey and end up in sunny Bali, where my sole purpose for the next week is to explore, wonder and wander, and record it all in writing. Interesting how I’ve tried many masks and roles but the one I end up inhabiting is the one I do best – writing the stories of the moments, of how people find meaning and elevation and inspiration.

Have I said before how lucky I feel?

Truly. Debbie Williamson has invested in me to bring me all the way to the other side of the globe to tell the world how wonderful, exciting and inspiring her retreats and trainings are.

But I am lucky in so many ways.

I have a second wonderful chance at love with the most amazing husband and best friend I could have dreamed up.

I have the most intriguing and remarkable children in the world, who love being with me and whom I love more than the sun.

Every lesson comes down to one small but huge admonition: be in the moment. NOTICE your surroundings. Cherish the interactions, good and aggravating alike. TASTE your food. Breathe in the air. Get more sun and stop hiding.

These are the truths that pervade our existence.

I’m looking out the window and on one side, it is all mountains and high rises and clouds and white sky. I know from the captain on flight #2 that it was 70 degrees at touchdown this morning before 6 a.m.

On my other side, a rainbow of planes – Dragonair (love the emblem and the name, I want to ride and buck and breathe fire), CEBU Pacific Air, Cathay Pacific, Qantas and Kiwi and so much more.

People going and coming and waiting in layovers.

When I set out on my journey, we boarded the plane and the plane taxied out. Then we stopped. Dark storm clouds rolled in and the previously pink afternoon was shrouded in charcoal-gray.

Rain pelted the windows and we were fine inside the slim metal tube. An hour passed, then another, as I became friends with Jack the Brazilian, a P90X master, and just when I was ready to panic, imagining that I would miss my connection and miss my trip and be caught somewhere in the middle of here and there, the lightning stopped and the captain announced our departure and we soared into the sky.

I made it, running, between LAX terminal 5 and the international terminal. I remained awake in the security line and I boarded the plane. I made friends with the elderly Filipino couple beside me. I slept and I woke, I read and I relaxed, and we sailed through the night sky over time zones and over oceans until here.

I made it.

I was always going to, you know. It’s just sometimes hard to remain in the moment, even though fear of what-ifs and maybes and next are scarier than standing still.

And so onward I travel, to see what I have yet to see. Open eyes. Open ears. Grateful heart. Ready pen. See you there.

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