Journey

Reflections on the joy of anticipation

“When does it begin for you?”

A friend said recently as we discussed my forthcoming trip to Galapagos.

“Does it begin for you when you reach your destination…….or does it start with the journey?”

My eyes locked hers.

“It’s already begun”

I said.

For me, anticipation is a crucial part of any voyage.

Whilst there are practical arrangements made; what to pack and reconfirming details, anticipation is the fun part. It is the reverse of worry.

For me, anticipation of this trip is a lozenge made from strawberry sunsets, mint skies and cool water.

Although I do not leave for over a week, I hold it firm on my tongue, tasting yet not quite tasting……

My heart is already a stowaway. It hides and glimpses, creeps and skips. I am both suspended, and in surrender.

Today brought me a card with a dried flower taped upon it. It was hand delivered, the writing mossy and lacy with fond wishes.

How it felt like my own ‘St Christopher’!

Kindness had been a bloom of beauty pressed and kissed on to smooth cream for me.

As I prepare for this trip, I read ‘Log from the Sea of Cortez’ by John Steinbeck. He describes the feelings before a vessel leaves a harbour, beautifully.

“It would be good to stay in a perpetual state of leave-taking, never to go nor to stay, but to remain suspended in that golden emotion of love and longing; to be loved without satiety.”

This chimed with me. But whilst the gentle rock of a tethered boat could be said to mimic our own heart strings and those of loved ones, the lure of adventure also pulls. And there you are, held between these two worlds, dancing a glorious cusp.

I should add at this point, I’m only away for 8 days, I’m hardly Captain Cook, but how I intend to savour them as perfect peas nestling! One by one, each day, ripe, tender and verdant.

Much is written about ‘being present’ but anticipation is an underrated pleasure.

Whilst possibility (one of my favourite things) darts through us like a myriad of tropical fish, anticipation whets appetite by offering a sketch pad to your mind. It dares you to map dreams and trace shaky mazes.

I sketch my plans deliberately softly. In a way, they look like childhood pavement chalkings. There are big hearts, fuzzy rainbows, spidery sunshines and fat flowers.

They are warm and smudged. I stand barefoot upon them and the dusky pink chalk coats the soles of my feet with its rose.

I am in the moment, I decide.

Anticipation is a moment all of its own. A prelude that tastes of petrichor and runs with lemon skinned drums.

(Image is from a deck I own called ‘Oracle of the fairies’ by Karen Kay and Ginger Kelly)