Hello. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? But I guess that’s what happens when you move to another continent, study 3 degrees simultaneously and do a whole lot of other things at the same time. I do not recommend this lifestyle if you can’t handle pressure.
Today I woke up, took a look at my to-do list and felt a deep need to sleep a little more while at the same time a bubble of laughter emerged from my belly and made me feel strangely giggly and wonderfully happy. Because this is what I had been wanting and wishing and working towards, wasn’t it? This was it. This was the result of all those late nights and all-nighters and mornings stumbling out of bed into the brightness of day with a headache thumping at the back of my eyelids and I was finally here and it might not be the end of the journey but it’s a step closer. I felt oddly light as I changed into a pair of jeans and a plain grey t-shirt, as if I could fly if I so desired. I sat down on the empty shared kitchen of the flat and ate cereal with milk and was suddenly reminded of a phrase of Mark Strand’s: “…tell them that by being both here and there, I am becoming a horizon.” I suddenly wanted to open the window and tell everyone all these phrases, ancient voices that are not my own but that resonate through my body like a vessel, they clash against my bones and tangle on my veins with the sole purpose of expressing this inexplicable feeling. Tell them that I am the result of the love of thousands. Tell them that if He is with me, nobody can be against me. Tell them that I am a horizon. Tell them that I move to keep things whole. Tell them I am on my adventure. Tell them I’m happy, terrified, brave. Tell them that home is not a place on a map. Tell them…tell them that breath is what I give them when I send my love.
As I sat in a lecture room two days ago I was asked how I came to be there. “Well,” I said. “I just thought it would be nice to study here.” The true answer is much more complex than that but I was not going to explain that to young boys with rosy cheeks and too many nights filled with drinks ahead of them. Afterwards, though, I looked in the mirror and told myself that maybe I would not be here if I had not taken the road less travelled when I was a young child with starry eyes and dreams bigger than life.
Later as I was walking back to my flat with a bag of groceries on one hand and a bag of books on the other I felt tired and promised myself that I’d take 50 steps and then rest and flag down a cab. After my small respite, I told myself that I’d take another 50 steps and then rest and then flag down a cab. I repeated this process until I was halfway to my flat and then stopped because I was tired and my shoulders hurt and my legs hurt and my feet and my everything hurt. So I told myself I’d take one more step, just one more and I kept putting one foot in front of the other until I was in my flat. It was then that I realized that the hardest part of doing anything is that in-between moment when you don’t remember the beginning and can’t see the end. Well, at least now I’ve got some practice putting one foot in front the other.
Finally, I just want to say…I am on my way.