I have arrived . . .

I have arrived. You thought that I have arrived in Iceland, didn't you? (Is it vain to assume that you, or else you, or maybe you instead, have been reading these prior musings about Iceland and Reykjavik, formulated before my having breathed its air or tasted its water or touched its land with my feet?) I have yet to arrive in my own private Iceland (and I have yet to view the 1991 movie My Own Private Idaho, though I've always loved the title). "I Have Arrived." That's the title of today's little meditation reading in my compilation of wisdom penned by Thich Nhat Hanh. He says, "The realization that we have already arrived, that we don't have to travel any further, that we are already here, can give us peace and joy. The conditions for our happiness are already sufficient." That being said and that being believed and that being practiced notwithstanding, I nevertheless yearn for reset, reboot, revival, restoration, and renaissance. I hunger for the "shock of the new," to echo that cogent title of the work by Robert Hughes. My own private Iceland beckons and calls and whispers.