This is not going on the blog.

“THIS IS NOT GOING IN THE BLOG!” I yelped as the moment passed.

I was recounting the most forgetful thing I’ve ever done as we drove to the Memphis Airport at 6am this morning. As I wrapped up my story about realizing how I forgot all my credit cards, driver’s license, AND the coveted passport, upon pulling up to the same airport in the winter of 2015 I laughed in embarrassment. (I spent a semester in Spain teaching 20 honors students. I had convinced myself I would be mugged and carefully scanned all my documents and credit cards for digital copies the night before flying. I left them there in the scanner the morning of my departure.) Suddenly, an uneasy feeling washed over me. I felt my chest tighten and the thought lingered that this morning and in THAT MOMENT, I should check to make sure my wallet and passport are safely stowed away in my backpack. I checked five times the day before and all was in order. Pulling out the passport wallet, I sigh a breath of relief when I see the familiar blue cover. I flip open the book and whose face is looking at me?  A 20-something Amber Carswell stares back. The sea of panic swells in my body to outright hyperventilation. “Why is your passport in my backpack?!?!?!” Somewhere in the weeks prior we had accomplished an absentminded switcheroo that sent me into an all out nuclear meltdown.

One day we will laugh about it. Amber already is.

I’m not a flake. But the worry persists as I trek through my day moving from place to place, airport to airport that I'm a bit of one. This seems to be a trip of binaries, apples and oranges. Amber is ordered, logical, and resolute. She does well with numbers, relishing in games of strategy. She comes back refreshed from a ten mile run in one hundred degree heat. She reads the instructions before assembling a vacuum cleaner or her new FitBit. She is devoted to a life serving God. I am fluid, easily moved by personal stories. I spend hours wandering through museums.  I change my mind often.  I’d rather sweep than groom the dog. I travel without a firm itinerary.  I am refreshed after a long day of quiet reading or painting in a 77 degree household. My spiritual road is bumpy and full of doubt. But this trip holds more than just opposing personality types.

For me, I don’t know what the next two weeks holds. Certainly it will be full of comparisons. It’s already started in fact. I took photos of the absurd Trump and Hillary tees in the airport gift shop. I made poop jokes privately at the Starbucks that went too far, knowing I’ll have to edit myself abroad. After sitting for a year in churches listening to spiritual journeys, biblical analysis, sermons on living a more meaningful life, I still wait. I wait to hear. Quietly, I listen for divine whispers. This fuss about God is something else. I mean, it’s big.

The grant was awarded to me by my University. The intention is to have an immersive experience, one with cultural exchange and primarily to build my creative work. A body of paintings influenced from the images I find in Jerusalem is the end goal.  I trust all that is about to happen. The rest of it? Like most of my life, something is about to happen. Albert Brooks, a comedian and director had a bit about being an escape artist who gasps for air and begs for help. I think that’s a darkly comedic image that might shine some light on me writing this blog. If you are reading for enlightening spiritual epiphanies, you might find someone struggling instead. But there will be poop jokes. Count on that.