On the way home

https://youtu.be/IMTCxZUwsyc

Just remember on the way home
That you were never meant to feel alone
Just stay on the run, get off the grid, hide yourself out like you know that I did
And if you might find that your running is done
A little bit of heaven never hurt no one.

I write this riding on the big metal bird that is the plane taking me from Singapore to Frankfurt, Germany. I'm wearing my good old John Mayer shirt, and a pair of brand new op-shop pants, bought yesterday on my last day in Australia. This travel-halfway-around-the-world-outfit today happens to be somewhat symbolic.

I bought the John Mayer shirt a bit more than two years ago at Bluesfest in Byron Bay. Since then it's become one of my favourites; I wore it pretty much all the time - as a traveler you can't usually carry a greatly varying wardrobe.
It's been everywhere with me.
It's in many photos.
It served as a work shirt while working at festivals and as a base layer for crisp desert winter nights and the freezing days camping in the Victorian alps and Tasmania.
It protected me from the worst sunburn while hiking in the desert, and drifting on a sailboat.
It was soaked in my sweat when I climbed mountains, and had holes torn into it by nasty vines in dense rainforest.
I wore it for partying and dancing simply because it was the cleanest top I had left.
Sometimes it was covered in animal hair, sometimes it was my nightie, sometimes it stank so much that I didn't smell it anymore, sometimes it was my good-luck-shirt for hitch hiking, and sometimes it was the only thing I had on (not while hitch hiking).
I wore it riding a scooter and falling off a horse as well as while painting my car Laurie.

Also, I always liked it for being kind of a test for new people I'd meet: While e.g. Pink Floyd is a "safe bet" because most people like it, John Mayer seems to be quite polarizing; people seem to either love him or hate him (or they don't know him at all). If they're superficial enough to like me less because if the shirt then I'm quite happy if we don't become friends.However they feel, they know what's my attitude towards his music, and that I have no problem declaring it written in bold letters across my chest.

It's practical, suits every occasion and I feel very much myself when I have it on. Me in this shirt is me traveling.

So far. Now it's almost 3 years since I was that super enthusiastic baby girl hungering for the wild world and adventure, jumping on a plane to Sri Lanka. Now I can say a couple of "been there, done that" 's and at least know that I know nothing.
Now, like in Mary Poppins, the wind is changing and it's time to go and try something else.

So I bought these pants yesterday on my last op-shopping trip with Sonya in Brisbane. They're that sort of pants that I didn't really have while traveling, for practical reasons. The typical full-leg-covering backpacker's look is either thin trekking pants or thermal tights with shorts over it - anything that packs away small, is light and dries fast, fashionable-ness is secondary.

The new ones are of a thick, jeans-like, stretchy material, tight and somewhat stylish with fake pockets and zippers only for adornment.
They're not daggy backpacker's pants, they're actually nice.
Me in these pants is new, and could be anyone.

My chest is still wrapped in memories of another life I leave behind and it makes the heart a bit achy and the breath a bit choky, but my legs are ready to carry me off into a new chapter, garmented in fine unfamiliar material with all sorts of promises woven into it.

Is it symbolic or do I have too much time on this 12 hour flight to do poetic yadeeyadah of arguable relevance?

A little bit of heaven never hurt no one?
Well, I know who is heaven for me.
(See photo below)

Rock the cradle and keep me afloat
I've been six months at sea
In a feather light boat
And I can't keep my head up anymore
No-one can sleep with their feet in the floor

See the little white horses in the sea
Don't you think they look like you and me
Forever running to get ground under their hooves
But waves must give way as an ocean moves

See the little white horses in the sea
Don't you think that one laughs just like me
Restlessly tossing and turning in their bed
Recklessly tossing and turning its head.

Eggs in the nest and the bird on the ground
I'll wait for my chances that never come round
And I never expected to fly
It's not much to ask to keep warm and stay dry

Cross the river and head for dry land
I'll give you my heart if you hold out your hand
And I keep myself upright and sleep on the tide
With only the waves lying here by my side

If I just had the room to stand
I'd walk away at my own command
Find my way back to the shore
Find my way back to the shore.