"there is almost no way to prepare for how beautiful a place becomes just before you go, made sweet by its impermanence.” - meg fee.
my going home, at the end of three months of travel, had been punctuated by much anxiety and many many tears. fear.
i left because i was tired. i left because there were things i wanted to see; things i wanted to do. but most of all i left because i couldn’t sleep properly any more, because i was always crying and always exhausted, holding onto my coloured rocks and hoping that God or the universe or anybody or colourful rocks could help me keep it together.
and going home is hard. being ready for Real Life again is hard. remembering the things i’ve left behind, and wondering if they are still there. it has only been three months. but it has been three months.
there are still things i want to do. there are still places i want to go. there was a part of me that naively thought that i would cross everything off my list. but my list is a whole lifetime long, and i am not there yet. please God let me not be there yet.
i talk to God. i don’t know how to stop. i do not know how to live a life in which God does not exist, but i am filled with more doubt and fear than i have been in my entire life. i have known more people to die than i ever have before. i know more people now who do not believe in a god than i ever have before. and with all this comes the part of me that demands proof. but even as i think, “i don’t know if you exist, God” i am still talking to Him. even as i ask questions of friends and strangers, it is not them i am asking. i am asking God. i don’t know how to make Him not exist in my life and in my heart, and i wonder why that is. i wonder what it means - whether it is a sign of a part of me deep inside, or maybe a sign of my naiveté. the truth is that i don’t know, and all the questions still left unanswered.
i hold on to the fact that i could not have brought this life to reality on my own. flying at the front of the plane, glass of champagne in hand. visiting places all over the world and calling so many places home. i stand on the shoulders of giants every day, and i know that i am blessed or lucky or whatever it is. i quit my job without a safety net, and somehow the day i chose to come home was the day someone offered me another one. four-ish years ago or whatever it was, i was unemployed in australia not knowing if i could stay. no one would hire me because i couldn’t officially call australia home. and i went for a walk in the rain and cried out a prayer and not thirty minutes later i got a call offering me a job. that workplace went on to pay for me to stay. i now have my blue passport and a place of my very own to call home.
when i was thirteen i said i wanted to call LA home, and a sort-of home it now is. i said santa monica, and it is not santa monica but it is pretty darn close by. i still do not have a green card, but i have a yoga studio and local cafes and favourite beaches and a place to stay in LA when i so choose.
my prayers have always, always been answered. even the crazy ones. even the out there ridiculous ones. there are people smarter than i, much much smarter than i who fill me with doubts as to whether i am praying to anything at all. but someone is making my dreams come true. someone, somewhere is making all my dreams come true.
every year on every candle i ever have placed in front of me i make the same wish: that i live a life in which God’s existence cannot be doubted. and my way of doing this is to throw myself off every cliff in sight, and to ask for outrageous things. this is all i know how to do: to live as a bold and as colourful a life as i possibly can so that i know for sure that i am not the one making it all happen. i know to ask all the questions and make all the demands. i want a green card. i want a great job that i am passionate about, that makes waking up a joy. i want to have a beautiful place to live and a supportive partner and people around me who love me and help me fly. i want to see copenhagen, spend a year in london, spend a year in sydney learning how to surf. i want to hang out with strangers in alleyways of shops in abbot kinney drinking rose out of paper cups and splattering paint around (this happened). i want a life that makes living a joy and an excitement and all the things that i dream of.
the truth is that i have never lived a day in my life without the sometimes deeply hidden belief that this life is for big dreaming and colourful living. and i may be coming home, i may be physically home. but when i'm thousands of miles in the air, or about to land into LAX, or staring out anywhere at a blanket of green… that is when i feel my heart expand. that is where i come home.