To be displaced from reality is a most interesting experience, even as a young child. This is why Mr. Rogers fascinated me, most especially when the little train went through the tunnel. Special music, the screen goes dark, and all that lies beyond is a mystery. To fly is to be completely displaced, and once in a while I welcome the feeling. Then, I run through the Dallas airport at full speed, red shoes and shirt, stomach clasp on big-zipper backpack, feeling alive, capable, and cool; I realize that I am home. I am substance. Maybe traveling gives me substance because I have no outward circumstances of place or familiarity to define or describe me. Maybe the feeling of oneness within this skin is the reason that I love trains and planes: the feeling that they take you places and you are just along for the ride. And what can I take with me? Beneath it all, besides for the bags and backpacks, no matter how sturdy the zippers or ergonomic the straps, only me. Me! I am really here right now. Would you believe it- I am a person! What is the essence of self, displaced? Perhaps people were never meant to be isolated, so in the best version of life it this is not even a necessary question.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DoxUiqUpkw4&feature=related
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