[photo from riomaggiore, italy]
an unravelling of fear, barriers crumbling, goals set and reaching.
a single tear, weightless on my cheek or words stuck in my throat or excitement stinging at the backs of my eyes. take all of that and add the stilling of my racing heart as i walk towards the eiffel tower for the first time and the fairytale of it all floods every possible part of me.
or the smell the hot tarmac and salty humidity that hits me, every aquamarine flight into hawaii.
or the way the smooth cobblestone in riomaggiore feels under my bare feet.
or the greatness of those big new zealand skies.
the giddy excitement and throbbing of my heart from the motion of a train as it moves from the platform faster and faster and faster, away.
the setting sun in an unfamiliar place. new food. new people. a new way of seeing.
an open mind.
an open heart.
i finally understand.
recognising how it all fits together, how we’re all so connected, how everything is in its place and everything has its way
how everything moves or shifts and the right things come if we just have faith. or patience. or do whatever we need to do
to live with joy and live with love and let the worry the fear the unknowingness
travel stills the soul.
and perhaps the journey must break your heart
until it opens,
passed passes me by
and i find myself
on the balcony
in a place, so far from all i knew this year.
it isn’t the end of the journey, oh no. it is only just the start.
i refuse to adjust, to fit back in, to be who i once was.
because there is no going back. there is only now and whatever lies ahead for me.
and i’ll make plans and take steps towards them all,
everyday in this life i knew and know.
i’m happy to be home.
you do realise i live a life out here?
away from all i learnt in all i was and all the places i found myself.
reflection leads to yearning.
it’s all the lessons in all the longing of when i was there. when i was that person. when i lived, day-to-day, in this in between, on-the-move, am-i-dreaming(?) surreality.
but i’m not looking back.
[a red balloon floats across a blue sky awash with white and wispy monet clouds.]
i’m here. it’s now. the wind still blows, i still ask questions and find answers in the movements of the universe as she showers me in confidence, that all i need to know i can find living deep within myself. not in the clouds of the skies but the storms and sunshine that brew and subside along the streams of my blood bursting through veins and clearing from smoke and mirrors emotion.
it has all become so clear, in asking and receiving.
in listening to morning birdsong, to the voice of that evening star.
in respecting the beautiful wishes of my still and beautiful heart.
suddenly he was inside the radius of her perfume and kissing her breathlessly.
– f. scott fitzgerald, first blood
i am not my weight, i am not my age, i am not my height. nor am i the colour of my skin or eyes or hair. i am not woman not female, lady or girl. i am not the poor decisions i’ve made in the past, or the things i once chose to prioritise. i am not the little money i’ve had, or the money i’ve spent. i am not my drunken nights, not my excuses or my reasons, not the things i say, not the things i should have said.
i am not my mistakes.
i am not the same as you.
i am not,
and never will be,
what you expect me to be.
i am me.
i am flawed.
i am human.
happiness only real when shared.
– christopher mccandless