In Flux

I've heard the phrase, "so-and-so is in a state of flux," all my life. Given the context it was always uttered in, I assumed that it meant the person was facing tremendous change or indecision. It rarely seemed like a positive experience but it also always had a temporary feel to it, as if even in the midst of it, the person knew it would end.

When I was trying to think of how to describe what I've been going through lately, that phrase leapt to mind. And being the lover of words and phrases and their meanings, as I am, I decided to look up what its common definition is. 

However, I typed in the search term incorrectly. I typed in "in flux" instead of "in a state of flux." When the meaning wasn't really close to what I had always assumed it was, I looked again at what I had entered and saw the mistake and corrected it.

According to the freedictionary.com, "in a state of flux" means: "a state of uncertainty about what should be done." So, I was right. But it didn't really ring true once I read it. I don't feel uncertain about what to do. And I hope this isn't temporary. So I went back to the meaning for "in flux."

According to dictionary.com, "in flux" means: "the act of flowing in; the place at which one stream flows into another or into the sea."  Yes, that's more like it. I am doing more, experimenting more, and going more than I have in years. I am trying on activities like I try on shoes... randomly and with abandon. I'm keeping those I like, that feel good and discarding the others. I'm not analyzing any of it. If it feels like something I can walk in, I keep it. I'm keeping the things that fit.

I am experiencing in flux. 

Finally.

Holiday Weekend

After work on Friday, I caught the train to Chicago for the long weekend. As I suspected, I was not the only one with this idea as the train was completely sold out. A good number of Cardinals fans from St. Louis as well as Blackhawks fans from all over were aboard, headed into the city for a weekend of sports mania. Other than a few interesting drunken outbursts by a couple of them, it was a pretty standard journey.

Normally Canal Street is lined with taxis just waiting for people to spill out of Union Station and into their waiting back seats. Not so after 9 p.m. I, along with several other people, had to stand on the curb, arms outstretched, waiting for one of the dozens of taxis driving by to stop. As dumb as it sounds, I enjoyed it. That is one little slice of urban living I never get to experience in daily life. 

After checking into the hotel, ordering room service and unpacking, I enjoyed a quiet night of reading and thinking. I slept pretty well, if not long enough. I woke in darkness and sat for hours on the chaise lounge in front of the window, watching Chicago wake up. Everything was shrouded in dark shadows and blankets of gray and then as the sun rose, color was painted onto everything in vibrant hues. I love Chicago in the morning.

I spent the morning reading and writing and then headed just across the river to see the Memorial Day Parade. The weather could not have been more perfect. The sun was bright and only too warm if you had to stand in it for quite a while. I found a great parade-watching spot at the corner of State and Lake, the parade's starting point, which gave me the opportunity to alternate standing in the sun and under the El tracks to cool down. 

The parade was an amazing two hours of emotions. The number of veterans and young recruits, heroes of yesterday and today, surrounded and serenaded by dozens of marching bands playing military hymns was humbling. People on the sidelines watched and cheered, waved flags and shouted greetings, swollen with pride and patriotism. It was a fleeting moment of unity in an otherwise disparate world. I hope to experience it again.

Sunday was a day of reflection and soul-searching and writing. Fortunately, just when I was feeling completely bogged down in the mire of uncertainty and questioning that plagues times like those, I was due to arrive at the theater for a matinee of The 39 Steps. It was exactly what I needed. Completely entertaining, engrossing and engaging, it was a comical, lighthearted spoof that showcased everything magical about live performances. I left impressed and feeling more positive than I had all day.

When Monday morning came, I was not ready to come home because I never feel more at home than I do in Chicago. But normal life must be dealt with and I made my way to the station to catch the first train back. The car was nearly half-empty that early in the morning. To keep my mind busy and away from thoughts of the last time I traveled home on that train I daydreamed of the next time I could visit Chicago. I am already anxious to return. But isn't that how we all feel about home?