I have friends who like to ‘use’ time on long journeys to catch up on work or emails or ‘pass’ the time on social media. For me, the fact that I am going somewhere feels like I’m doing enough…
I settle into a peaceful meditation of flyby views. Occasionally, an epic audiobook lulls me into a cosy comfort associated with bedtime stories.
My husband looks up from his book too late (every time!) as I poke him excitedly because I saw another fox/hare/deer. I feel heartened that wild things still roam in the open emptiness between cities.
I enjoy a sense of the distance I am travelling as I watch every metre come into focus and then zoom into a blur. No disorienting feeling of ‘how did I get here?’, when I finally arrive at my destination.
If I choose my seat well, the sinking sun offers a spectacular evening show and I watch it until the last orange slither disappears. My window turns into a mirror and accordingly, my reflections turn inwards…
Most of my fellow passengers are absorbed in their digital doings so I find myself in a privileged position of unobserved observer. My mind creates stories for them as their emotional journeys play out in their features. Those stories morph into my own…they become plans, hopes, memories…
This time of mobile stillness feels precious and I wouldn’t want to ‘use’ it for anything else.
flailing about 
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