This is the reflection end of my trip, so I’ve been taking the time to visit places that I’ve liked rather than see something new. It turns out that it’s the same story every time – it’s the little moments that I like the most. Having my morning cup of coffee by the open window and surmising what the weather will be, watching the clouds change their shape day after day. Walking up the hill to admire a view of the city by the Sumiyoshi shrine, seeing the different shades of sky at sunset. Admiring the way in which the rice fields have grown since the first day I arrived… when they were just pools of water reflecting the sky. I won’t be able to see them grow tall and yellow, ready for harvest, but that’s okay. I’ve had to cut my plans a little short for good reason, and I can always see the rice fields another time. It seems that I enjoy more watching the evolution of things over time, rather than seeking that refreshing feeling of entering a new environment. I guess these are just different phases of life.
It makes me wonder, when I recently spent time with some friends who are older than me, why did they appear to enjoy the feeling of being in an environment that was fresh and exotic more than me? Is it just that we have different personalities? Or is this kind of travel something that I will want again in life? At the moment I crave a routine, and all the refreshment that stability brings, but will that one day become stagnant for me as well? I suppose that we can’t really predict these things, but I think I know what I’d want. I would want a balance in life… something that is not too boring, but also not so de-stabilising as it has been for me in recent years. To be honest, I have been struggling a little in the lead up to my departure for this reason. I am scared… what will this new life bring for me? I know I’m asking too many questions.
I try to tell myself, that this new journey I’m starting, of settling down and introducing a little more stability into my life, is something that will only happen once in its own unique way. Its’s good to slow down and enjoy the process of it now. But I seem to have trouble with this. It brings up fears, anxieties, the things I’ve been avoiding for 8 years. It brings up memories, of how much I failed at establishing a stable life before I left Australia. I wonder to myself, can I really do it? Sometimes it gets to me, but I always end up answering myself in the same way: of course you can. Anyone can. And if anyone can do it, then surely I can too. I know that this feeling of discomfort is natural, and will go, but it’s not always easy to sit through. It brings to mind a different phase of my life, four years ago… around the same time of the year. I was planning to leave Singapore in the middle of the pandemic and travel around Europe. I don’t quite know what I was thinking at that time, it was a little crazy. But it was a desperate attempt by me to live my dream before it was too late.
Even though it was nuts, I ended up succeeding. And I felt equally as uncomfortable before I took that flight to London. In the months leading up, I’d sit for hours in the spare bedroom and meditate and journal. I tried to do my best, knowing that my best wasn’t going to be good enough, but trusting that there was a purpose to everything. I still remember when I walked through the departure gates at the airport… I felt sick to the stomach. I couldn’t eat. What was I doing? I was leaving a loving relationship, someone who provided me with stability and support, and I was doing that all because of a strong desire that I needed to be in Europe. It was crazy, maybe just like my decision now. I know that my life at the moment is probably one of dreams. I have my work, which allows me to travel. If I wanted to, I could keep moving between Australia and the rest of the world, while working. I could meet new people, I could see new places and have amazing experiences. I would have the world in my hands, and I wouldn’t need a fixed place to stay. But it’s not for me anymore.
I have that same pull guiding me, almost making decisions for me. I need to go back to France, for what I’m not entirely too sure. But I need to start walking that road now, no matter what. Maybe I’ll feel equally as sick at the airport in Japan, although this time I’ll be alone. The only thing I’ll be waving goodbye to is my cancelled plans, and the city of strangers that I walked with every day but never got to know well. It’s not that sad I suppose, but I think it may still feel like I’m walking on air. The dreams of settling down, decorating my own place, re-taking responsibility for my health… it’s all coming back to me now and it’s very loud. Sometimes it’s so loud that I can’t let myself enjoy looking forward to it, because when we seek to build something and need a little stability to do that… we are always afraid that the foundations will crumble beneath us. I’m reminded of something that Eckhart Tolle said once: Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Always work with it, not against it.
It strikes me that he uses the word “work” as if our life as it is now is always moving, always changing. Trying to create some semblance of stability out of something that is always changing scares me. Maybe that’s why putting your feet on the ground and trying to build a new life for yourself always takes a little courage. You go try to create something, knowing that you will be faced with a thousand failures in the process. But I guess that travelling has taught me what I need to do in order to create from of a shifting foundation. And the biggest thing I’ve learned is this: keep trying again and again and again, because no one is watching your failures.
When we stop moving around and become still, it’s difficult to stand within the fog of our own mind. You start to panic, and want to move here and there. To an area that is less scary and more clear, more predictable. To a place that guarantees your time and efforts were not wasted. But that area doesn’t actually exist, and anyway, your time and efforts are never wasted. Time is only ever the story we write for ourselves, and we are the only ones who have the pen in our hands. So what are you going to write?
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