The story hereafter is further indication of how your seating position can impact your perception of the world.
It may look as a paradox to many that you aim for your destination backwards; yet it happens more often than you think. The train is one fine example of that kind of a situation.
Seated backwards in the TGV heading for Reims this morning, I was reflecting upon the effect of such a position on my mood.
Much ado about nothing? You bet!
Boy I’ve done it so many times in that position as well as in the normal one; so I know exactly what I’m talking about. I have even noted it all on a pad.
The music I listen to for one, is not at all the same depending on whether I am seated backwards or frontwards. Nine times out of ten, my backwards music is of the yearning, aching sort. Like this morning I was listening to Kathleen Edwards latest album, the aptly titled “Voyageur”, which incidentally I like very much. And particularly that song For the Record. When I’m seated frontwards, most often the music I choose is upbeat, the Blak Keys, for example – like the T-Rexish Lonely Boy.
This may seem odd but I do have an explanation. When you’re seated backwards, the feeling is that of leaving somewhere. When you’re seated frontwards, you’re heading somewhere. In the first case, it’s a feeling of loss and longing for someone or something; in the second case, you’re looking forward to something. Nostalgia in one case; aspiration in the other. Past and future. Unconsciously, when you’re seated backwards you’re mind stays anchored ashore – watching the bucolic scenery rush away from you also helps. Conversely, when you’re seated frontwards, you’re already projected in your destination. In the future.
That’s putting things simply. Anyone can verify this assertion and see what they can do about it.
Which doen’t mean that you cannot plan for the future, even when you’re turning your back on it. You don’t believe it? Well see for yourself.
On a still not very speedy stretch of the railway, my TGV was going past another train going at almost the same pace in the same direction, and I could see the travellers’ faces inside. One of them reminded me of a woman I like and often think about when I am in Reims but rarely call. Too much of a coincidence to let any room for thinking. So I sent her a text message on the spot, saying:
- Hi there, in Reims for a couple of days. Free for lunch?
Then I started to count the minutes, thinking that my impudence was going to lose me. I should have added something nice … five minutes, ten minutes – that’s a long time waiting on a train! So much so that I ended up falling asleep, until the buzz of my phone awoke me.
- Lunch, no.
Is all I got. Tell me about nostalgic! I took the time to reply, and couldn’t think of any good thing to say. But, like a good tease that she was, her second text message came first. It said:
- Dinner, yes; if a good joint.
It’s your lucky day, I said to myself, don’t mess it up. Log in to TipMeOut at once and check out Max’s best address in the circumstance.
And, come to think of it, I should remember to encourage her to download the app.