This trip to France feels unlike the others, there is the smell of change in the air. These moments are always strange. A mixture of fear and excitement, a little melancholy and absent mindedness. It feels like I was just surfing a big wave, enjoying the adrenaline of the moment, and now I have been taken in by the tide and spat out where there is no land in sight. Surrounded by frothy waves, not knowing what’s swimming underneath me… I do what I’ve always been taught to do in Australia when such a situation arises. Relax, don’t swim against it. Take a moment to gather yourself.
The best way I know how to do this is to say the one prayer I always say: thank you. When the momentum of a wonderful period of time in life has come to an end, and when the transition into something new begins… don’t swim against it. Just say thank you. Thank you to all that has passed through your life, and thank you to all that is to come. We may not be able to control the form of things in our life, but we can surely take a positive view on all of it and create something beautiful.
All we need is the strength to believe that there is something to say thank you for.
My life has taught me that there always is. Even during moments when we say goodbye and have to move on, something I have had many opportunities to practice. Many times I have parted ways on good terms with places or people, and I smile a satisfied smile as I walk away. But sometimes, I have held on. I have held on for what seems like far too long, but really we wouldn’t hold onto something if we didn’t have anything to learn from it. I’m glad that I held on to life in France in such a way. If I hadn’t held on, then I wouldn’t have known what home feels like. And saying goodbye to home is a different kind of goodbye.
When somewhere or someone is your home, you part ways but you don’t feel anxiety. You know that home waits for you. So you may feel sad, you may feel that something is missing from you… but the feeling of peace, security and love that home gives you is more powerful than any feeling of lack. The day of my train departing the coastline draws so close that I can almost feel the heat of its engine against my skin. So I take some time to be quiet, to not swim against the tide. To know that no matter where I go – all roads lead back to home.
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