Comfort and Adventure

I’m a little impressed that today I managed to both be asleep before my flight took off and also only wake up from the shake of the wheels hitting the ground. I think I stirred once or twice in between during my two-hour flight, but mostly I just slept. Head against the window. Thousands of miles above the ground.

It’s been a crazy week. I was at the URJ Biennial, the largest gathering of Jewish life in the entire world. I worked hard. Long days, late nights and early mornings. My feet are sore and my eyes are drooping still, but I saw and learned and experienced so much.

I'm in front, second from left, and for
something new and different,
I am looking the wrong way.

My writing has kind of fallen by the wayside this week. It’s taken a backseat to answering questions from old ladies wearing nametags and teens wandering convention center halls. To listening to Ambassadors and the Vice President. To wearing a hideous bright red fleece vest in a climate where fleece vests should be outlawed. To spending time with my parents and my grandmother and my friends from both costs and the states held in between.

I’m going to sleep now. It’s too early, but I’m too tire to wait. I’m going to sleep late and wake up and move on. Go to school. Do my homework. Get back in the swing of things.

Today is Sunday. Tomorrow is Monday. The days have passed quickly, but that’s because they’ve been so full.

It’s strange moving so rapidly between such a large scale experience and the every day swing of things. Between 5000 people in a plenary listening to Joe Biden and 12 people in a classroom listening to my health professor. I like both, in their own times, though I don’t think I could live in one reality without the other to balance it. I love those soaring highs and I love that routine. I love getting to live a life that has both comfort and adventure.

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