Before I get started, I wanted to acknowledge the fact that it is January 14th. And I’m on Day 7. Time moves slowly in my world. And I might have been a bit overzealous in committing to a question a day. But I remain committed. Here are reflections on Question 7…
I flew to Copenhagen today. Well, technically I flew yesterday. I arrived today. Time zones are a trip. And for the duration of my trippy trip and the rest of my time in Copenhagen I will have six bags in tow.
Yes, six.
Now, before I acknowledge my shame, let me first justify. I am here in Wonderful Copenhagen to lead a weekend-long strategic planning workshop with the Curiosity team and next week I’ll be teaching a research course at the 180 Academy. I need things to do both of those things. Facilitating materials. Books. Binders. 17 black sweaters.
A few weeks ago, I went to see Up In The Air, the new-ish Jason Reitman film starring George Clooney. It’s a funny movie. Touching too. And even a tad depressing. But the point here is that Clooney’s character, who spends a gobsmacking amount of time on the road, has serious packing panache. He makes packing sexy. Dead sexy. He is George Clooney, yes, but still, the packing – it was inspired.
I suspect, however, that no amount of cinematic coaching and inspiration will separate me from my overpacking ways. I like to have stuff with me. Stuff to think with, stuff to read. Stuff to wear, stuff to share. And before this turns into a Dr. Seuss book, let me say that needing the stuff is not about having fancy material things with me. I have one small bag of clothing and personal affects. When I’m on a thinking and teaching mission such as this, I need to have inspiration with me. I can’t think without books. I can’t lead without post-it notes. And I can’t teach without a very specific type of chisel tip marker in my hand and great examples of work that brilliant minds before me have produced.
Sigh.
Why can’t I pack like George Clooney? Well, the truth is sometimes I can. I went to Turkey for a two-month volunteering adventure with only carry-on luggage. The next year I went to Paris for a few months with my own steamer ship. Most of the time I do like to bring along a few things that help me think and live and love and laugh. Things that remind me of and connect me to what feels like home and the best parts of who I am. And I think, despite his gorgeous packing habits, this is what Clooney’s character was missing. Connection. To people. To a place. To a purpose.
So, I’ll take my six bags. And I’ll hate them as I carry them up five flights of stairs. And I’ll love them because the contents mean something to me, they share something about me and help me be who I am. And because they introduced me to a handsome Danish boy who helped me carry them off the street.
Like I said, connection.
The Year of Living Curiously 
…”and I’ll give them to my sherpa sister to carry, like so many boxes of paper and printer cartridges.”
Except I never met any cute Danish boys…just Zanta, the steroid-raging, de-shirted, streetcar-taking, rapping mountain of man with a holiday hat on his head.
Talk about connections.
Bitterness does not become you. And Zanta was nice. Don’t complain. That’s not becoming either.
Life’s not just better with company..it’s better with books, post-its, new conversations, old memories, chisel-tip markers, and handsome Danish boys, not to mention new learning moments, lat-minute adventures, breakfast in bed, and oh yeah, George Clooney.
Where are you??? With the absence of your posts, I’m forced to be curious and creative all on my own. And it’s exhausting – please come back and be curious for me.
Hi Brooke – I was teaching in Copenhagen last week which was all consuming. Back in Toronto today and will be posting later. Stay tuned!
I have been forced to check luggage recently, given this new security celebration at airports. And surprisingly, it isn’t that bad.
Yes, I lose precious minutes waiting at a carousel that takes forever to turn, but I use the time to write songs. Songs about luggage. And one day, they will make me rich.