Last month I was traveling for 22 days out of 30. Uh, … can someone tell me what time it is?
22 out of 30 days — 73.3% of the month. Traveling this much has been an unusual experience for me. As I think back on the month that flew by (literally), several observations about the effects of travel rose to the top.
Sleepless in St. Pete
73.3% of my normal activities were shuffled and interrupted. Sleeping. Writing. Praying. Reading. Loving. Eating. Even though much of the interruptions were memorable family events (part of our time away was for a cruise … more on that later), my eggs were still 73.3% scrambled.
The biggest shakeup came in the form of disturbed sleep. Sleep. I’ve discovered just how much I take it for granted. I presume that when I lie down, I’ll drift happily into sleep and then come back to life 7 hours later feeling refreshed and ready for another day. Uh, not so much!
Strange beds and pillows, different noises. Not drastic, just enough to disrupt normality. And then there’s the time change. I traveled through 18 time zones in those 22 days. It’s an awkward feeling to wake up in your own bed but not know where you are. Or when your eyes pop open at 3:00 a.m., and there’s nothing your mind can do to convince your body that it’s not time to get up.
They say you should allow one day to adjust for every hour of time zone change traveled. More often than not, I find that they are off base. This time, though, they got it right.
Crowded Isolation.
I was around quite a few people in my travels. I was in crowded places. I was quite active. I met so many new people, and spent time with our extended family (which happens to be a great thing).
Curiously, though, I find a layer of loneliness settling in just under the surface of my emotions. I miss my friends. I have become used to the regular hugs, smiles and laughs that good friends bring. Having that pattern disrupted has brought an unusual sadness that I find interestingly profound.
And it makes me want to go have a cup of coffee.
The Stuff.
I know a few people who travel regularly for work. One man I know travels almost 3 out of 4 weeks a month, usually Monday through Thursday. When you travel that much, the travel becomes part of the routine. But even so, you can drown in the extra logistics of travel.
Email … ugh! Packing, unpacking and repacking. Mail shutoff. Returned calls. Bank accounts, cash flow and bills to pay.
Laundry.
The stuff must go on. Life just has stuff, and it requires its attention. 30 days worth of stuff crammed into the 8 days that I didn’t travel was something I didn’t anticipate, and I find it overwhelming.
The Take-Away.
Maybe I’m just getting on in years, and the ol’ body doesn’t take the punishment as well as it used to. Maybe if I traveled more the arrhythmia could itself become rhythmic; I know there are people that do it, after all.
Maybe.
But I think rhythm plays a vital role in our lives. Some may call it being a creature of habit. Some may call it just another rut to live in. I’m sure you can let this swing too far, but I like a little regularity. I find that too much chaos is not good. I find that patterns of living and loving, of breathing life in and out are healthy.
I think we should take a clue from the world around us. God designed in day and night; winter and summer, spring and fall. He made tides that ebb and flow. There are times when we plant our field, and times where we let it lie fallow. Days to work, and days to rest.
Regular. Rhythm.
Pardon me while I go for a nap.
Nice post, you got some good points there – thank you.