A reflection on the art of arriving…
Walking into an airport arrival hall in the United Arab Emirates well before first light to the sound of morning prayer and the muted din of a melange of humanity waiting to be permitted to gain entry into a new country gave me pause to reflect on the art of arriving.
Arrival halls at International Airports are one of my favourite places.
Languages from every continent, skin colours ranging from pale to dark and all shades in between, and the costumes….the fabulous colours on the women from Africa, the robes and gowns, suits and ties…all allowed simply to be in an arrival hall.
All coming from important lives, all about to disperse into a big city to do who knows what…and here we all are, strangers, in this moment. Arrived.
There is something incredibly marvellous about that. About how arrival halls allow us to be wonderfully diverse as humans from Earth. Not judging. Just being our uniquely wonderful selves.
If, in our divisive world, we could recreate the arrival hall experience once departed from it, we may finally begin to celebrate the gifts of diversity to our own human experience.
To arrive. To feel into the strangeness of the new. To begin again, not knowing the language, the culture, the currency…
Being open to integration. The respected guest who respects the host.
The curious mind who perhaps finds the colour of the dress or the strangeness of a language and culture something to delight in and seek to understand.
Today I practise arriving…
Photo taken 26 February 2016
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