Realm of Ephemera

One thing I can say about airports after just having spent a whole day in them is how they don’t feel like somewhere you go to. In a way, it is an uncomfortable place. We all deal with some form of anxiety while walking through an airport terminal, or waiting for endless hours to leave this state of impermanence - waiting for someone or something, passing time as best as we can. We read, play, listen, write, surf aimlessly on the internet or work. I, like most people, make a point of preparing my “entertainment” for that time in the hallways of nothingness, to make sure I have enough to live this blank slice of time.But sitting in this space that makes an effort to smell clean like a hospital and warm like your own living room - failing miserably at both -, we have the comfort of knowing everyone else feels the same restlessness here. This is not a place where you are supposed to stay, enjoy or savor. The restaurants and lounges try to sell us another story, but it is a ruse; nothing can make it home-y or take its characteristic of somewhere we are simply not meant to stay in.Faces don’t repeat at airports. The chairs are rarely comfortable enough to spend more than a few hours sitting on. You eat poorly there because food is expensive. We all make our own rituals to survive crossing this realm of ephemera, a connection between different worlds.Although being in airplanes takes actual time, actual hours we live while sitting on a flying tin can, there is a strange quality to experiencing this hop in space. One minute you are in one side of the world, a number of hours later you are in another. Different place, different people, a shift.Somehow, it reminded of the genius of “Fleabag” and Phoebe Waller-Bridge. [I'll tread lightly on plot spoilers but there is a lot in this next paragraph on the meaning of season 2 of the show, so proceed with caution.]In season 2, the premise is that Fleabag is pining after the “hot priest” who will officiate her father’s wedding. She has no interest in religion, but her strange attraction to the priest leads her to spend more time with him and discuss matters of religion, faith and God. So, after everything she went through during season 1, we are lead to believe that Fleabag will, in her own very unorthodox way, finally heal. But what she learns - what we all learn, sort of like a moral of this season and the series itself - is that Fleabag too lives in a place of impermanence. Whatever feelings she harbors for the priest are a distraction, a way to run away from her own problems but ultimately be forced to face this as an attempt to escape herself. She lives with this permanent heaviness in her heart and expects a man who “understands” God could give her some answers, yet he can’t; no one but her can. This thing she feels is not a place she stays in. It is a stepping stone, another terminal in the realm of ephemera taking her from one place to another. If you've seen the show, remember the line the Priest says to her in that last convo (spoiler/refresher here). It's there. That's the moral of the story.So it's not just in fiction that some periods of life function like airports. They are not ideal but serve their purpose. They are not comfortable but we don’t plan to linger. Places, people, relationships, situations; anything and anywhere can be transitory, an impermanent place in the map of our lives, but we never know for sure until we feel ready to leave. Thinking of it makes me want to enjoy life better. And write better, find the transitory spaces where a story lives and explore their territory. Experiment more.Airports are funny. I don’t like them, but can’t say I dislike them either. They are their own little kingdom, with their own little rules.-Maíra