“Like an ocean in between the waves . . .”
Exactly a year ago tomorrow, I was making my way to London, via Calgary, Edmonton, and Reykjavik.
From my journal: “Edmonton airport, glass of wine, here we go. Hardly seems real . . . Half an hour out of Iceland, 4:30 a.m., sun slivers, stars, clouds, distant pink. Wishing I could put this feeling in words.” I’m still not able to. Maybe this is why I’m an editor, not a novelist.
I had met two of my future roommates, for a few hours total, a year earlier. And I had freelance work lined up. Other than that, I had no idea what to expect. I leapt out of my mind’s stagnant water across an ocean to find . . . something.
The practice of yoga focuses on cultivating contentment in the present moment, wherever you happen to be. It’s an idea that guides my life, but yet, the need for a change of scenery has always been vital when I need to reset, get creative, feel inspired.
London quickly became home. We adapt quickly. This ability never ceases to fascinate me. I remind myself to be a tourist, to enjoy floating in the ocean while it’s still, before the waves rolls in. Because they will.
I think about my equal and constant desires: to build a home and “root” and to keep watching the sun rise somewhere new. Is it possible to have both? It’s thrilling to think so. A place to float, and a place to play, rushing forward, pulling back, in cycles.
But the stagnant waters? They’ll always be there waiting, regardless of how far I travel. We must learn to access contentment, joy, inspiration within, wherever we physically find ourselves.
For now, London is still home. And the water is so inviting.