Dreams:
In the nocturnal realm of dreams
nothing is ever as it seems -
I have no wings, but somehow fly
and never think to question why.
In dreams I'm not afraid to drive,
but at no point do I arrive.
The dream me freezes when I'm tense,
when past and present make no sense -
how can I be adult and child?
I'm turned to stone while thoughts run wild.
But on occasion, with delight
I can awake with fresh insight
when deep in my subconscious mind
a gem of truth is left behind
and words I'd otherwise not hear
in slumber were so very clear.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, December '06
Sigmund Freud believed that dreams reflected unfulfilled and repressed longings. Carl Jung felt that dreams more accurately reflect our wakeful hours, and represent our brains' attempts to work through the issues and problems we grapple with day to day. More recent researchers believe that our dreams are made up of random flashes of visual (and often subconscious) memory that our waking minds try to make sense of by building a story around.
My theories about dreams are a combination of all of the above. I've always been fascinated by the subject - I look forward to dreaming each night because my nocturnal visions are so fascinating - sometimes terrifying, but usually enlightening. Each morning as I wake up I try to remember what I dreamed the night before. Like Jung, I believe that my dreams have a lot to tell me.
My brain, like many others, plays its fair share of reruns on the big screen of the slumber land cinema. My repertoire includes the standard fare of "bad dream" themes - being naked, being chased, endlessly falling into an abyss, and writing exams that I'm not prepared for. These common dream themes have broadly accepted interpretations. Nakedness symbolizes a desire to hide something or feelings of vulnerability. Falling represents feeling out of control in the face of insecurities and possible failure. Being chased means we're likely running away from a problem, and those exam dreams? When we have those we're probably feeling pressured, scrutinized or challenged by problems we may have neglected. On the other hand, dreams of flying usually signify that you're feeling "in control" of your life and are seeing things from a newer, broader perspective.
In addition to those dreams, I've had many dreams about being back in high school or even elementary school. In the high school dreams I'm often standing at my locker trying to remember my combination, which is pretty odd because though I've long since lost the lock I can still remember that the magic numbers were 13 - 42 - 17. When I go back to my public school the dreams tend to rapidly become lucid dreams that I gain control over. One minute I'm at my desk being yelled at by my least favorite teacher, and the next I begin to realize that my desk feels awfully small and hey - wait a minute - you can't yell at me anymore because I'm all grown up and in fact my KIDS are grown up too! (That's usually when I wake up feeling oddly elated at the prospect of having to be a responsible adult.)
I think that a lot of our dreams reflect our desire to get "unstuck" - to break free of the fears and insecurities that bog us down.
Stuck:
I am wandering in circles
through a landscape cold and bleak -
I am feeling quite abandoned
and my courage has grown weak -
there's something I'm in search of,
but I'm not sure where to seek
and I need someone to help me
but it seems that I can't speak.
I am stuck here in this nighmare
in this freeze frame of the mind
delving into my subconscious
fearful of what I may find.
Everything seems menacing,
though nothing's well defined -
won't someone help me wake up
so I'll leave this dream behind?
Here I am, stuck again
in a nightmare.
Now I'm standing at my locker
combination lock in hand -
what I'm doing back in high school
I can never understand -
but when told to find the numbers
brain refuses the command,
and the fires of frustration
have been dangerously fanned.
I think this can't get any worse,
but a crowd has gathered near -
they're taunting me and pointing
and the reason becomes clear.
In the hallway of my high school
I stand naked and they jeer -
I'm exposed before the masses,
some just laugh and others leer.
Wake me up, I am stuck
in a nightmare.
There is someone close behind me,
he's a hunter in pursuit -
a quick glance gives confirmation
he's a huge and fearsome brute.
I don't know why he chases me,
explanations don't exist -
and though I try to elude him
he'll relentlessly persist.
I can feel my limbs grow leaden
'til I barely move at all,
then I'm tripping in slow motion -
endlessly I fall and fall.
As I spiral into blackness
sound distorts and time suspends -
conscious thought recalls a rumour
about how such dreams can end.
So I shake as I wake
from a nightmare.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, April '07
In some of my dreams the message is clearly spelled out within the dream itself. My college room-mate died several years ago, and she often shows up in my dreams - especially when I'm feeling stressed. The dreams are all different, but similar. I'm back in our old apartment and really happy to see her there. But things have changed - sometimes she's living there with her husband and I know I don't belong there. Sometimes she's in the process of moving out, or moving another room-mate in. Sometimes she comes right out and tells me that my life has moved on and I need to stop revisiting the past. Regardless of how these dreams unfold I wake up feeling conflicted - happy that I "saw" her and full of bittersweet emotions about my past - but I always have a strong conviction that I'm where I'm supposed to be and need to keep moving forward.
Another thing I often dream about is finding secret rooms in the houses I've lived in. One of my sisters is an avid dream interpreter, and she says that she thinks these dreams represent untapped potential in our lives, and our ability to pleasantly surprise ourselves with unexpected successes. I love having those dreams and exploring what every new room has to show me!
Dreams are the images that we see in sleep that help us make sense of our past and present lives. However, "dreams" is a word also used as a synonym for aspirations and hopes. Like the flyer in the dream world, we can use our nightly journeys into the unexplored parts of our mind to give us a broader perspective - to define those fears and insecurities that keep us rooted in the land of Stalledandstuck. (And why would we want to stay there when life is so full of unexplored delights?)
I believe we dream at night so that we can continue to dream by day - to expand horizons - to aspire, to hope; to "fly".
Dream on.
Friday 28 February 2014
Friday 14 February 2014
Finding a Fortune by Exploring the Heart - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
The Fortunate Ones
It may seem that fortune favors
the maid with fairest face -
the man seen as most fortunate
might always win the race.
Still more may count as fortunate
the man who owns the most,
or he for whom adventure
offers deeds of which he'll boast.
Yet souls that fortune smiles upon
are few and far between,
and most of what's bestowed on them
is by the eye unseen.
Abundance is not measured by
the treasures we can hold -
it isn't meted out in coin
or stocks and bonds - or gold.
Wealth beyond comprehension can't
with human hands be touched,
and all the things we buy and sell
will ne'er amount to much.
Those who have the deepest pockets
may know real poverty -
with hearts and souls both starving for
what they will never see.
And all the goods they buy and sell
will never compensate
for that elusive craving that
they never seem to sate.
The fortunate are self content -
they're grateful and they're kind,
because they're good to other men
they're filled with peace of mind.
The riches of nobility -
a fleeting glimpse of fame
that follows someone with the luck
to master any game -
these never hold more value than
love given and returned
or virtues one embodies through
the wisdom one has earned.
(By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - March 2010)
I vowed that this February I would not write a blog post about love - but then I went to a funeral that made me consider anew all the ways that love shapes the fortunes of a lifetime.
The funeral was for my husband's aunt. I'd only met her four times, but on each of those occasions she impressed me as being kind, generous, fun - a person who loved deeply and was richly blessed with love in return. All of these impressions were verified yesterday by the things I heard others say about her. The Rabbi spoke of her loving marriage, and how exceptional it was that two so kind and gentle souls found each other. Theirs could have been a difficult union to forge - she grew up Anglican and he was Jewish. But they married, she converted, and I'm convinced she threw her heart into that decision. Theirs was a marriage to envy, and their children maintain that they never argued or spoke unkindly to each other. What a wonderful, true life love story!
I heard people say things like, "There wasn't a mean bone in her body" and "She was a person that everyone liked." People often say similar things at funerals, but this was different - people meant what they said. How many of us will be fortunate enough to have the same said so sincerely of us?
I heard people describe her a a favorite aunt, as an incredible mother and "a woman who could sell anything." She was a working mother in the days when they were rare, and she loved her job. She also loved socializing with friends and playing cards and bingo. The fact that she loved her children and grandchildren was evident.
This was a woman who loved life. So life loved her back.
My husband and I had to leave after going to the graveside. He would've liked to spend more time with his cousins - to sit Shivah with them, hear the stories they would share, and to console them in some small way with the knowledge that she'd touched his life too. (Although somehow I think they had no doubt of that.) But we had a long drive ahead of us, and before that a plan to honor her in an unusual way.
Before we hit the highway we stopped for pizza. It was "Aunt Betty" who had introduced my husband to his favorite food as a child, and he felt it was only fitting that we eat pizza for supper in her honour. While we ate he told me stories about his aunts and cousins and we shared our thoughts on the service and the day. Todd drove us home in the dark with the smell of "Windsor Pizza" (yes, that does need to be capitalized, because there's no pizza in the world like it!) - wafting from the back of the van. We thought about how happy our sons would be to see that we'd remembered them with this treat on this particular day.
I listened to Sting sing about "the Last Ship" sailing, and I thought about the life voyages we all take - the vessels we sail, the ports we visit and the passengers we sail with. I thought about all the people who travel rougher seas than me and how blessed I am to know what love feels like - to have family and friends who I love and am loved by in return. (Even if there are few at this point who are likely to remember me as kindly as Aunt Betty.)
We sail our ships, charting varied courses and largely navigating by heart - with the heart. Our mortality ticks by in heartbeats. If we're lucky we share some of Betty's fortune - we enjoy happy marriages and have children who love us. Some will be blessed with a gift for friendship, or with jobs that are enjoyable and fulfilling. Others will slog through their days - fighting the tide and sailing daily on churning water - constantly pining to be on dry land. They will find little happiness because their hearts were never invested in the lives they led.
I was once told that "the heart is nothing but a pump". Technically that's true, but try downplaying the role of a "mere pump" to a farmer who lived a hundred or more years ago and was faced with the task of watering acres of land with water hauled from a well one bucket at a time. The "pump" made it easier for him to keep his fields lush and green. The pump made it easier for his family to drink abundant fresh water, for daily chores to be done; for his home to be clean. Our hearts absolutely keep us alive, but true fortunes are built according to how attuned we are to the inner self - the heart - and how well we utilize those "pumps".
Do we understand "what makes us tick"? Can we recognize what we are passionate about and how we can use those passions to fuel a rewarding life? Do we look deeply into our own hearts and try to make sense of the emotions we feel, and use those emotions to change our fortunes, and our world for the better? Do we consider the hearts of those around us, and how they have been shaped for good and ill, through experience? Do our hearts just tick away time, or are those pumps primed and ready to help us nourish the world?
However many questions there are, I remain convinced that "Love is the answer". We can argue religion and politics and ideologies until the cows come home to that well watered field, but in the end what we all need even more than open minds are open hearts.
We should all try harder to open our hearts to the possibilities in life. Open them to love, to family, to friends, to strangers and to every good thing that fills us with hope, amazement and excitement. Perhaps if we do, we will be fortunate enough to be remembered with love, and to have made our fortune like Aunt Betty.
On that note I leave you with a (repeat) poetic offering.
Cardiology:
How can we solve life's mysteries
if we never even start
to attempt investigation
into matters of the heart?
There's much we'll never understand
and much more we must forgive
in the hearts of those around us
through the time we have to live.
Likewise, we'll make apologies
on each journey that we go
as we're always navigating
into waters we don't know.
We'll gauge feelings that swirl 'round us
and emotions of our own
all while trying to discipher
what is sensed, but seldom shown;
like coral reefs that lie beneath
stormy oceans of the heart
where no daring cartographer
has been brave enough to chart.
However vast our knowledge grows
of this planet or deep space,
the heart remains a mystery -
an obscure and complex place.
Though science gives us formulas
to determine speed and mass
we continue to ask questions
not addressed in any class.
We'll never learn to calculate
even just the smallest part
of the infinite equation
that defines the human heart.
(By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 2007)
It may seem that fortune favors
the maid with fairest face -
the man seen as most fortunate
might always win the race.
Still more may count as fortunate
the man who owns the most,
or he for whom adventure
offers deeds of which he'll boast.
Yet souls that fortune smiles upon
are few and far between,
and most of what's bestowed on them
is by the eye unseen.
Abundance is not measured by
the treasures we can hold -
it isn't meted out in coin
or stocks and bonds - or gold.
Wealth beyond comprehension can't
with human hands be touched,
and all the things we buy and sell
will ne'er amount to much.
Those who have the deepest pockets
may know real poverty -
with hearts and souls both starving for
what they will never see.
And all the goods they buy and sell
will never compensate
for that elusive craving that
they never seem to sate.
The fortunate are self content -
they're grateful and they're kind,
because they're good to other men
they're filled with peace of mind.
The riches of nobility -
a fleeting glimpse of fame
that follows someone with the luck
to master any game -
these never hold more value than
love given and returned
or virtues one embodies through
the wisdom one has earned.
(By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - March 2010)
I vowed that this February I would not write a blog post about love - but then I went to a funeral that made me consider anew all the ways that love shapes the fortunes of a lifetime.
The funeral was for my husband's aunt. I'd only met her four times, but on each of those occasions she impressed me as being kind, generous, fun - a person who loved deeply and was richly blessed with love in return. All of these impressions were verified yesterday by the things I heard others say about her. The Rabbi spoke of her loving marriage, and how exceptional it was that two so kind and gentle souls found each other. Theirs could have been a difficult union to forge - she grew up Anglican and he was Jewish. But they married, she converted, and I'm convinced she threw her heart into that decision. Theirs was a marriage to envy, and their children maintain that they never argued or spoke unkindly to each other. What a wonderful, true life love story!
I heard people say things like, "There wasn't a mean bone in her body" and "She was a person that everyone liked." People often say similar things at funerals, but this was different - people meant what they said. How many of us will be fortunate enough to have the same said so sincerely of us?
I heard people describe her a a favorite aunt, as an incredible mother and "a woman who could sell anything." She was a working mother in the days when they were rare, and she loved her job. She also loved socializing with friends and playing cards and bingo. The fact that she loved her children and grandchildren was evident.
This was a woman who loved life. So life loved her back.
My husband and I had to leave after going to the graveside. He would've liked to spend more time with his cousins - to sit Shivah with them, hear the stories they would share, and to console them in some small way with the knowledge that she'd touched his life too. (Although somehow I think they had no doubt of that.) But we had a long drive ahead of us, and before that a plan to honor her in an unusual way.
Before we hit the highway we stopped for pizza. It was "Aunt Betty" who had introduced my husband to his favorite food as a child, and he felt it was only fitting that we eat pizza for supper in her honour. While we ate he told me stories about his aunts and cousins and we shared our thoughts on the service and the day. Todd drove us home in the dark with the smell of "Windsor Pizza" (yes, that does need to be capitalized, because there's no pizza in the world like it!) - wafting from the back of the van. We thought about how happy our sons would be to see that we'd remembered them with this treat on this particular day.
I listened to Sting sing about "the Last Ship" sailing, and I thought about the life voyages we all take - the vessels we sail, the ports we visit and the passengers we sail with. I thought about all the people who travel rougher seas than me and how blessed I am to know what love feels like - to have family and friends who I love and am loved by in return. (Even if there are few at this point who are likely to remember me as kindly as Aunt Betty.)
We sail our ships, charting varied courses and largely navigating by heart - with the heart. Our mortality ticks by in heartbeats. If we're lucky we share some of Betty's fortune - we enjoy happy marriages and have children who love us. Some will be blessed with a gift for friendship, or with jobs that are enjoyable and fulfilling. Others will slog through their days - fighting the tide and sailing daily on churning water - constantly pining to be on dry land. They will find little happiness because their hearts were never invested in the lives they led.
I was once told that "the heart is nothing but a pump". Technically that's true, but try downplaying the role of a "mere pump" to a farmer who lived a hundred or more years ago and was faced with the task of watering acres of land with water hauled from a well one bucket at a time. The "pump" made it easier for him to keep his fields lush and green. The pump made it easier for his family to drink abundant fresh water, for daily chores to be done; for his home to be clean. Our hearts absolutely keep us alive, but true fortunes are built according to how attuned we are to the inner self - the heart - and how well we utilize those "pumps".
Do we understand "what makes us tick"? Can we recognize what we are passionate about and how we can use those passions to fuel a rewarding life? Do we look deeply into our own hearts and try to make sense of the emotions we feel, and use those emotions to change our fortunes, and our world for the better? Do we consider the hearts of those around us, and how they have been shaped for good and ill, through experience? Do our hearts just tick away time, or are those pumps primed and ready to help us nourish the world?
However many questions there are, I remain convinced that "Love is the answer". We can argue religion and politics and ideologies until the cows come home to that well watered field, but in the end what we all need even more than open minds are open hearts.
We should all try harder to open our hearts to the possibilities in life. Open them to love, to family, to friends, to strangers and to every good thing that fills us with hope, amazement and excitement. Perhaps if we do, we will be fortunate enough to be remembered with love, and to have made our fortune like Aunt Betty.
On that note I leave you with a (repeat) poetic offering.
Cardiology:
How can we solve life's mysteries
if we never even start
to attempt investigation
into matters of the heart?
There's much we'll never understand
and much more we must forgive
in the hearts of those around us
through the time we have to live.
Likewise, we'll make apologies
on each journey that we go
as we're always navigating
into waters we don't know.
We'll gauge feelings that swirl 'round us
and emotions of our own
all while trying to discipher
what is sensed, but seldom shown;
like coral reefs that lie beneath
stormy oceans of the heart
where no daring cartographer
has been brave enough to chart.
However vast our knowledge grows
of this planet or deep space,
the heart remains a mystery -
an obscure and complex place.
Though science gives us formulas
to determine speed and mass
we continue to ask questions
not addressed in any class.
We'll never learn to calculate
even just the smallest part
of the infinite equation
that defines the human heart.
(By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 2007)
Wednesday 12 February 2014
Navigating the Trials of Travel - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Passports!
I love to travel, but it isn't as easy as it used to be. Gone are the days when you pulled out your birth certificate at the border or used your driver's license as identification. Now a passport is the only identification that will get you anywhere. You can't smile in a passport photo, and so you need to get used to the fact that you will be henceforth identified, everywhere you ever go, by that miserable unflattering picture that manages to add about thirty pounds to your face. (The possibility that your passport photo could end up on the news should be good incentive to behave anywhere!)
Passport Picture (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, August 2007)
Found a resort?
Get a passport!
Travel far and wide.
Show a photo
no one would know
back where you reside.
There is no sin
like a big grin
on a passport pic;
you can look mad
you can look sad
or you can look sick.
When you are posed
with your lips closed
it's a trial run.
Happy faces
had their places
when travel was fun.
Cleared for Boarding!
Air travel used to be so glamorous! Remember seeing those old photos of people hopping on early passenger planes, all dressed to the nines and wearing bright smiles of anticipation?
Things have changed. Now we don't bother to dress up, because lines are long, leg space is limited and we want to be comfortable. Smiling in an airport is a thing of the past. (We need to look something like those dour passport pictures we had to have taken to get us this far in the first place, right?) We all look worried - can't help it. We worry that looking worried will make us look more suspicious at the security gate, and worrying about worrying makes us look really worried. We ask ourselves questions - did I take every miniscule tube of cosmetics out of my carry on and put it in a baggy, or have I somehow made an error that will make it necessary to have my bag searched? Are my pockets completely empty? Will I set off alarms with my under-wire bra?
In a German airport I was briskly (but very thoroughly) patted down by a large blond woman who could've wrestled your average cage fighter to the ground with one hand tied behind her back. ( I later complained that she hadn't even bought me dinner : ) In an American airport I recently had my hands swabbed twice within ten minutes. (What is in that hand cream?) Recently I had my bag searched because I forgot (in my rush to get "expedited" onto flight that was two minutes past departure time) to remove my water bottle - yup, my bad. Amazingly enough the security people didn't question the fact that it was only water and a hurried mistake on my part, and I actually made that flight. (Whew!)
Once aboard you can wiggle and squiggle all you want, but chances are the noisy kid in the seat behind you or the person in the next seat who hogs your legroom or any of a dozen other possible complaints might make you wonder why you didn't book off an extra day or two and make this a road trip.
But road trips have their challenges too.
Welcome to the USA!
When road trips take you over the border, you can never really relax until get through customs. You may have a brief and pleasant encounter with a customs officer (which is usually the case), or you may have the misfortune of landing the guy who has had a bad day or is just plain mean-spirited...
At the Border: (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, February 2010)
From mundane toiling we grew tired
and so some travel we desired -
we dug out passports, planned the route,
packed up the car and headed out.
Once at the border we were irked
by border guard who smugly smirked
and noting our son out of work
proceeded to be quite a jerk.
"Not working, huh - and out of school?
you'd best not take me for a fool,
and in deep trouble you will be
if by a roadside I should see
you selling fruit or hocking wares -
don't lie to me son - no one dares!"
Then with a small turn of the head
addressing husband now, he said,
"And you Sir - are you out of work?"
He heard response, then said with smirk
"Consulting? Let me be explicit -
No work here shall you solicit!"
His attitude did patience tax
our aim was simply to relax.
(His"land of opportunity"
held very small appeal to me,
and though I try not to be snide
I'm happier where I reside.)
We sought only to nerves unfray
in climate where the palm trees sway.
Work wasn't what we'd tried to find,
but what we'd hoped to leave behind!
Yes, nothing beats the customs officer who within the space of five minutes manages to insult every person in the car. My husband and son were accused of wanting to take 'Merican jobs, and in spite of the fact that the Canadian economy was considerably healthier at the time, it was assumed that we were looking to leave our son behind to work at McDonald's or a fruit stand - simply because he didn't have a job to return to. This insulted son ("If I wanted a crappy job I could find one more easily in Canada right now!", he remarked later) and parents in one fell swipe. I guess we just looked like lousy parents who'd dump their kid off on some American roadside to fend for himself!
"What guarantee do I have you'll be bringing this young man home with you?" we were asked suspiciously.
Blood boiling I managed to maintain my composure as I answered him.
"Respectfully Sir, none but the fact that he is our son, and we love him - and would miss him."
Then he turned to my mother, and asked about her dog and whether his shots were up to date. She handed him Buddy's paperwork through the window. He wanted a closer look at the dog, but the window was broken and wouldn't roll down farther. My mother offered to open the door.
He jumped back as she reached for the door handle and told her (well, barked at her, really!) to keep the door shut because he had no wish to be bitten by her dog. (I guess my mother just looked like the sort of mean old woman who would sic her vicious bichon frise on him!)
Fun stuff - I repeat - if crossing the border is on your agenda, don't plan to relax until you get past the guy in the booth! Once you've cleared the border you're ripe for the next set of travel challenges.
Navigate Your Destination!
Navigate what, you ask? Everything, that's what! Navigate unfamiliar streets, unfamiliar customs, unfamiliar languages and dialects. (Yes - this applies even if you're only going to the United States.)
Once you've survived the harrowing ordeals involved in boarding an airplane or crossing a border you can afford to let your guard down (a bit!) and begin relaxing. But somehow you need to navigate your way into not looking like a complete idiot now that you've reached your destination. And that can be hard.
We travel to see things that are new and different, but then get frustrated because we don't know where we're going or what we're doing. What a map labels as a shopping center might be a mini mart with a bank and a gas station alongside. Go with the flow.
The subways will confound you - keep a clear head. Navigate your way through the frustrations that go along with figuring out what to do when you're not sure where you are.
Navigate your way through those local customs and foods with grace. In some states when you order something that says it comes with gravy they will serve up nasty gloopy white flour and water paste. Strange as it sounds, this is what the locals call gravy. If you're not sure what gravy means in that particular locality, ask. Navigate your way through the menu before you order!
Acquaint yourself with the language, or at the very least be understanding of the fact that everyone doesn't speak English - or not the same English you speak. We once had an encounter at a Tennessee hotel that felt like something out of an old comedy routine, and all because we couldn't understand the hotel clerk and he couldn't understand us.
Chatanooga: (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 2010)
In Chatanooga, at hotel
a wee old man answered the bell -
No "Chatanooga Choo Choo" here -
he might've chugged, but oh my dear
he obviously didn't "choo"
his teeth, I fear, were far too few!
This man of very ancient days
and graced with very southern ways
seemed most perplexed by what we said
and scratched his sparsely covered head.
And we were equally confused
by how the language he abused.
"Whose gotta pay-et?" questioned he
and we discerned - not easily -
translation was for this remark,
"who owns the beast that I hear bark?"
The English language varies so -
it changes everywhere you go.
Nation to nation, state to state
it takes some talent to translate
exactly what the natives mean
in many regions where I've been.
And curious as it may be,
the accent, they think, comes from me!
So I surmise I might sound odd
to those whose language seems most flawed.
Does "Chatanooga" chug along
laughing at how I sound so wrong?
Yup! I bet you any money
he thinks Canadians sound funny!
So wherever your travels take you, try to relax. Learn to navigate smoothly through the maze of new roads, customs, languages, and yes, even accents that await you there. Navigate your way to the coolest, craziest most different places you could hope to see wherever you are. Revel in the differences. Taste the local cuisine, see the landmarks; explore the back lanes and unbeaten paths.
And when you've had your fill and taken your photos; when you've made sense of the roads and the language and the mindset of the locals, navigate your way back home again.
I love to travel, but it isn't as easy as it used to be. Gone are the days when you pulled out your birth certificate at the border or used your driver's license as identification. Now a passport is the only identification that will get you anywhere. You can't smile in a passport photo, and so you need to get used to the fact that you will be henceforth identified, everywhere you ever go, by that miserable unflattering picture that manages to add about thirty pounds to your face. (The possibility that your passport photo could end up on the news should be good incentive to behave anywhere!)
Passport Picture (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, August 2007)
Found a resort?
Get a passport!
Travel far and wide.
Show a photo
no one would know
back where you reside.
There is no sin
like a big grin
on a passport pic;
you can look mad
you can look sad
or you can look sick.
When you are posed
with your lips closed
it's a trial run.
Happy faces
had their places
when travel was fun.
Cleared for Boarding!
Air travel used to be so glamorous! Remember seeing those old photos of people hopping on early passenger planes, all dressed to the nines and wearing bright smiles of anticipation?
Things have changed. Now we don't bother to dress up, because lines are long, leg space is limited and we want to be comfortable. Smiling in an airport is a thing of the past. (We need to look something like those dour passport pictures we had to have taken to get us this far in the first place, right?) We all look worried - can't help it. We worry that looking worried will make us look more suspicious at the security gate, and worrying about worrying makes us look really worried. We ask ourselves questions - did I take every miniscule tube of cosmetics out of my carry on and put it in a baggy, or have I somehow made an error that will make it necessary to have my bag searched? Are my pockets completely empty? Will I set off alarms with my under-wire bra?
In a German airport I was briskly (but very thoroughly) patted down by a large blond woman who could've wrestled your average cage fighter to the ground with one hand tied behind her back. ( I later complained that she hadn't even bought me dinner : ) In an American airport I recently had my hands swabbed twice within ten minutes. (What is in that hand cream?) Recently I had my bag searched because I forgot (in my rush to get "expedited" onto flight that was two minutes past departure time) to remove my water bottle - yup, my bad. Amazingly enough the security people didn't question the fact that it was only water and a hurried mistake on my part, and I actually made that flight. (Whew!)
Once aboard you can wiggle and squiggle all you want, but chances are the noisy kid in the seat behind you or the person in the next seat who hogs your legroom or any of a dozen other possible complaints might make you wonder why you didn't book off an extra day or two and make this a road trip.
But road trips have their challenges too.
Welcome to the USA!
When road trips take you over the border, you can never really relax until get through customs. You may have a brief and pleasant encounter with a customs officer (which is usually the case), or you may have the misfortune of landing the guy who has had a bad day or is just plain mean-spirited...
At the Border: (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, February 2010)
From mundane toiling we grew tired
and so some travel we desired -
we dug out passports, planned the route,
packed up the car and headed out.
Once at the border we were irked
by border guard who smugly smirked
and noting our son out of work
proceeded to be quite a jerk.
"Not working, huh - and out of school?
you'd best not take me for a fool,
and in deep trouble you will be
if by a roadside I should see
you selling fruit or hocking wares -
don't lie to me son - no one dares!"
Then with a small turn of the head
addressing husband now, he said,
"And you Sir - are you out of work?"
He heard response, then said with smirk
"Consulting? Let me be explicit -
No work here shall you solicit!"
His attitude did patience tax
our aim was simply to relax.
(His"land of opportunity"
held very small appeal to me,
and though I try not to be snide
I'm happier where I reside.)
We sought only to nerves unfray
in climate where the palm trees sway.
Work wasn't what we'd tried to find,
but what we'd hoped to leave behind!
Yes, nothing beats the customs officer who within the space of five minutes manages to insult every person in the car. My husband and son were accused of wanting to take 'Merican jobs, and in spite of the fact that the Canadian economy was considerably healthier at the time, it was assumed that we were looking to leave our son behind to work at McDonald's or a fruit stand - simply because he didn't have a job to return to. This insulted son ("If I wanted a crappy job I could find one more easily in Canada right now!", he remarked later) and parents in one fell swipe. I guess we just looked like lousy parents who'd dump their kid off on some American roadside to fend for himself!
"What guarantee do I have you'll be bringing this young man home with you?" we were asked suspiciously.
Blood boiling I managed to maintain my composure as I answered him.
"Respectfully Sir, none but the fact that he is our son, and we love him - and would miss him."
Then he turned to my mother, and asked about her dog and whether his shots were up to date. She handed him Buddy's paperwork through the window. He wanted a closer look at the dog, but the window was broken and wouldn't roll down farther. My mother offered to open the door.
He jumped back as she reached for the door handle and told her (well, barked at her, really!) to keep the door shut because he had no wish to be bitten by her dog. (I guess my mother just looked like the sort of mean old woman who would sic her vicious bichon frise on him!)
Fun stuff - I repeat - if crossing the border is on your agenda, don't plan to relax until you get past the guy in the booth! Once you've cleared the border you're ripe for the next set of travel challenges.
Navigate Your Destination!
Navigate what, you ask? Everything, that's what! Navigate unfamiliar streets, unfamiliar customs, unfamiliar languages and dialects. (Yes - this applies even if you're only going to the United States.)
Once you've survived the harrowing ordeals involved in boarding an airplane or crossing a border you can afford to let your guard down (a bit!) and begin relaxing. But somehow you need to navigate your way into not looking like a complete idiot now that you've reached your destination. And that can be hard.
We travel to see things that are new and different, but then get frustrated because we don't know where we're going or what we're doing. What a map labels as a shopping center might be a mini mart with a bank and a gas station alongside. Go with the flow.
The subways will confound you - keep a clear head. Navigate your way through the frustrations that go along with figuring out what to do when you're not sure where you are.
Navigate your way through those local customs and foods with grace. In some states when you order something that says it comes with gravy they will serve up nasty gloopy white flour and water paste. Strange as it sounds, this is what the locals call gravy. If you're not sure what gravy means in that particular locality, ask. Navigate your way through the menu before you order!
Acquaint yourself with the language, or at the very least be understanding of the fact that everyone doesn't speak English - or not the same English you speak. We once had an encounter at a Tennessee hotel that felt like something out of an old comedy routine, and all because we couldn't understand the hotel clerk and he couldn't understand us.
Chatanooga: (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 2010)
In Chatanooga, at hotel
a wee old man answered the bell -
No "Chatanooga Choo Choo" here -
he might've chugged, but oh my dear
he obviously didn't "choo"
his teeth, I fear, were far too few!
This man of very ancient days
and graced with very southern ways
seemed most perplexed by what we said
and scratched his sparsely covered head.
And we were equally confused
by how the language he abused.
"Whose gotta pay-et?" questioned he
and we discerned - not easily -
translation was for this remark,
"who owns the beast that I hear bark?"
The English language varies so -
it changes everywhere you go.
Nation to nation, state to state
it takes some talent to translate
exactly what the natives mean
in many regions where I've been.
And curious as it may be,
the accent, they think, comes from me!
So I surmise I might sound odd
to those whose language seems most flawed.
Does "Chatanooga" chug along
laughing at how I sound so wrong?
Yup! I bet you any money
he thinks Canadians sound funny!
So wherever your travels take you, try to relax. Learn to navigate smoothly through the maze of new roads, customs, languages, and yes, even accents that await you there. Navigate your way to the coolest, craziest most different places you could hope to see wherever you are. Revel in the differences. Taste the local cuisine, see the landmarks; explore the back lanes and unbeaten paths.
And when you've had your fill and taken your photos; when you've made sense of the roads and the language and the mindset of the locals, navigate your way back home again.
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