Looking back at the last blog I posted here, I’m very surprised that it’s only been one month! That’s not as bad as I thought. The reason for the short break was due to not really having any subject that I was in the right mood to write about, so why waste mine or your time, right?
The mood to blog has come about this week as I get closer and closer to the next big life change; Once again, I am moving countries (and no, I’m not going back to the UK yet).
There’s a billion things I could talk about here today including how it feels knowing I’ll be leaving this crazy country and this beautiful, soulful island. I could talk about everything I’ll miss, everything I’ve learnt and everything I’ve done or even just all the wildlife I’ve seen. I could talk about where I’m going next (but I feel like building up the suspense for those that don’t know..) and what I’m looking forward to. I could easily talk about how scary this phase is, and how little of a plan I have compared to last time I moved; there was a job with team-members and goals ahead of me as I boarded the plane to Thailand in 2017. Things worked in a certain way (for at least a few hours a day) and I had an almost routine (animal welfare centre + Thailand = nothing was really fixed in stone). I could talk about the last few months and how having a lot of time to myself helped me figure out what I want next, but also sent me a bit too far into the realms of self-criticism and self-doubt.
I think this blog will actually be about delving into the unknown. Occasions surrounding this theme have occurred in my life many times, especially when traveling, moving house, moving countries, going to new schools, starting new jobs, standing up on stages and going out into the wild world looking for whatever decides to fly or jump out in front of me.
The unknown can seem like a daunting place, and the run-up to one of these brand new ventures can be likened to being on a rollercoaster that’s slowly creeping up to the top of a huge drop. That nervous, excited feeling spreads from a tiny ball in the pit of your stomach, to a tingle that goes all the way up your spine. After a few weeks have passed you start to see the peak. As you approach nearer still, your eyes widen as you look around frantically wondering if this was really a good idea, but you realise that you’ve already bought the tickets and are firmly seated with no real option to turn back now. You feel your chest tightening and breathe quickening as you reach that very last moment of uphill travel, the last thing that you knew was coming.
When you get to this point at the top, there’s a pause. A moment when you are totally suspended. From this viewpoint you are able to look behind you and see everything that has happened, on purpose or not, that led you to this very moment. You can reflect on every big decision, every big change that’s come before, and you know right then and there exactly how you feel about the past as a whole. Just as you start to bring your attention to how you feel in your present - the roller coaster drops. Before you know it there is no time to reflect as you did on the run-up, it’s suddenly go-go-go and action and decisions and being totally in the moment and the future doesn’t exist because you are in it, this is your present tense, and you are diving so so quickly down the track, hands in the air, scared and thrilled.
You know how a roller coaster works. There are so many unexpected twists and turns and at the end of every ride you feel pretty battered and winded. But don’t you also have a clearer mind? And a very strong opinion on whether or not you’d ever get on a ride like that again?
The metaphor isn’t new, but at such a crazy cross-road in my life I’m drawn to writing paragraphs like this one to keep myself grounded, and keep my mind clear.
The truth is, I love jumping into the unknown. It’s a part of me that I started to fully unlock and acknowledge a few years ago when I stopped consulting the opinions of others and started to just follow my gut (I was also helped along by a little blue book called “A Field Guide to Getting Lost”). Everytime I do this, everytime I take the plunge into what could be anything, I find myself in progressively stranger situations. I am never less than amazed at how much I get to learn about myself, humans, nature and life in general from doing this.
I don’t know what triggered this nomadic bone in me, but I could not be happier that I am brave enough to follow it and see where the heck it wants to go this time.
I’m ready to jump on the next ride.
It's time to get lost again!