I’m back from a four-day trip to the Channel Islands (though really, just one island out of five) and Ventura. It feels a bit surreal, like the trip never really happened. But I feel like that after every trip. Even now, I’m catching up on email and work at one of the many LA Koreatown cafes where everyone has a laptop out — but in a few days, I’ll be on the road again, making my way back up to Oakland, and wondering whether this whole trip to LA ever happened…
Trips like these feel increasingly important, even if their timing never feel convenient, even if I’m never perfectly compatible with my travel companions, even if I feel underwhelmed at times. I’m reminded of a friend who tells me about how he “optimizes his time,” but doesn’t really have an answer as to what he’s ultimately optimizing for. Then I’m reminded of myself, my tendency to also try to optimize everything, and the constant struggle to accept that not everything has to be so fast, that not everything has to be so efficient. That I can forgive myself for not hiking every trail on the island, that I can leave some messages on unread.
And that there’re more important things like time outdoors with my sister, that perhaps an island pace of life and doing less might paradoxically be “optimal”…
(But sometimes… it’s hard.)
