This trip I’m on at the moment was born out of a feeling of restlessness.
I felt lost and trapped all at the same time and what got me through was the idea of getting to spend two months in another world–across the world, that is, in New Zealand. Working and discovering and marveling and eating and rejuvenating and being.
In a place I’d never been where I didn’t know anyone, so no one would expect anything of me, no one would worry about me, no one would even know I existed.
By the time my plane left I was in a better place, but still I felt I needed this.
And what happened here is something I can’t put into words exactly, but I’ll try.
I’ve cried myself to sleep and I’ve sat in the sun so filled with joy that I find myself giggling out loud like an idiot (or a genius maybe, depends on how you look at it I guess) for no apparent reason.
I’ve counted down the days till I return home and I’ve spent hours trying to figure out how I could realistically orchestrate never leaving.
I’ve dropped to my knees in prayer and sat for hours in meditation.
I’ve felt like I am no more evolved or sure of myself than when I was a 16-year-old-law-breaking-party-animal-trouble-making-mess-of-a-human.
I’ve felt helpless.
I’ve felt capable of anything.
I’ve rediscovered my writing.
But more importantly, I’ve read. I’ve read and read and read, more than I’ve read in years.
I’ve met women from all over the world–Germany, France, Ireland, California–that have become sisters.
I’ve gotten in a car accident (a fender-bender, but still), which if you know me you know what an absolute catastrophe this was for me.
I’ve bungy jumped.
I’ve led workshops, guiding people in rediscovering a part of themselves I’m moving through my own life every day in search of better discovering.
I’ve sat in my rented living room with a world renowned yoga teacher absorbing the wisdom of those who have been here before.
I’ve skipped meals, because everything was closed or I didn’t have cash and I suck at planning ahead. But also I’ve dined like a queen on nourishing food that comes thoughtfully and sustainably from the earth beneath my feet.
I’ve whole-heartedly committed to vegetarianism and can’t even relate to the desire to eat meat I knew just months ago.
I’ve gotten tattooed–a feather just behind my left ear to remind me of this time in my life, of the inherent freedom that is my birthright, of the divine guidance that creates the path I walk each and everyday if I waiver to trust.
And I’m coming home
an entirely different person that doesn’t know how I’ll re-assimilate,
but also exactly the same
and more certain than ever of my place in the world,
and above all else,
for this wild ride