It’s 11 AM. I’m perched upon my packed-to-the-hilt suitcase outside the Brussels airport, waiting for a bus to transport me to Paris.

My beloved friend’s son is getting married tomorrow night in Paris—a milestone I am thrilled to personally partake in, G‑d willing.

How exactly do I find myself on said suitcase, waiting for a bus in Belgium—to attend a Paris wedding? Apparently there was some strike in the Paris airport, so rather than cancel my trip, I’ve made it to Europe. It’s all goodI’ve opted to make my way to France via Belgium.

An announcement in stilted English broadcasts: We. Must. Wait. For. Bus. Another. Forty-five. Minutes.

It is drizzling and windy. I wrap a cardigan around my pounding head. We are herded to an enclosed, seatless area. A chorus of grumbling ensues.

Big deal. I’ve made it to Europe. It’s all good.

Yet I do experience that creeping feeling of “disconnection.” Unless I want to pay an emperor’s ransom in roaming fees, I’d be wise to keep my BlackBerry tucked away. But I, lady of text, BBM, e‑mail and, most recently, WhatsApp, am never not in touch.

I ask about Wi-Fi, and I am informed of the charge for airport-provided Wi-Fi . . . Waaah!

But I do not truly need Wi-Fi. Intriguing events are unfolding in real time. An adorable red-haired baby yawns. We all yawn together with him. Concerned Grandma is looking for warm water to prepare a bottle. Three yellow-clad employees dole out drinks and waffles to our weary Air Canada contingent. One ambitious traveler stealthily mentions underground transportation. It’s an Alice-in-Wonderland-without-Wi-Fi moment.

My spiritual voice intones, No-Wi-Fi moments call for a deeper realm of connectivity. Let’s call it Strive High. Use this time to connect with yourself. To connect with G‑d.

But I’m shivering and tired. Oy. Let me begin with a little list of goals and aspirations.

I pull out my Wi-Fi-deprived BlackBerry and begin typing. Behold. A handful of revelations spring forward from my fingers.

I want to switch off the “I need to respond to everyone and everything” switch.

I want my family and friends to feel loved and appreciated by me. I want them to appreciate themselves as well.

I want a blueberry muffin and iced coffee.

I want to make the most of my time.

I want to continually recognize the hand of G‑d—even in dark corners. Especially in dark corners.

I want to help develop the incredible potential of my children.I want to make the most of my time

I want deeper knowledge of Tanach, Jewish history, science and geography.

I want to participate in writing retreats. Now as a student, one day as a teacher.

I want to inspire others. Therefore, I need to feed my inspiration.

I want to do my best.

I want to recognize when to persevere and when to leave things alone.

I want an enchanted getaway cabin in the woods. With Wi-Fi.

I want stick-to-it-ness in the face of stickiness. I want to model that to my children.

I want to learn how to rollerblade and tap dance.

I want to learn how to play guitar.

I want to get on that bus already.

I want to thank You, G‑d, for this day and for every day.

It’s 1:30 PM. We’ve finally boarded the bus and are rolling along to Paris. Mazel tov!

Before I take a much-needed nap, I’d like to ask an important question of you: What might you do in a Strive High moment? Here are just a few suggestions: a mitzvah or three, prayer, reflection, introspective journal writing . . . no doubt you’ve got some great ideas yourself.

There are endless Strive High moments waiting patiently for our attention. Find them. Cherish them. Grow from them. You don’t have to be perched atop a suitcase in Brussels to tap into such moments (but, I admit, it sure does help).