Notes From The Road I.
Driving away didn’t give me the anticipated glamorous feeling of independence. In fact, I left scared and unsure. So unsure that I cried through Malmesbury, Darling and most of the West Coast National Park.
Thoughts raced through my head. “Was I really supposed to be traveling alone?”, “Should I really have cast friendships, relationships and everything I’ve known until now aside?”, “Was any of this what I was meant to be doing?”, “What if this isn’t what I expected?”, “What if I lose contact with everyone back home?”.
I remember feeling hesitant yet, very, very alive.
It wasn’t until a couple of days later, on a beach in Lambert’s Bay and again during this sunset just outside of Vanrhynsdorp, that I realised my choice was exactly what I needed. The unknown was no longer an intimidating black hole; it was a wide road full of possibility.
Another week later and something started to shift. It’s as if my heartbeat started to sync itself with the rhythms of this new world. Humans are amazing in their innate ability to adapt to a new place, a new way of life. We are hardwired to readjust, it is the most basic of survival skills.
What had just the week before been an indecipherable struggle with knots and ties and ammoboxes, trying to find somewhat of a routine, trying to get used to finding ease with doing normal “everyday” things, suddenly started to feel like a challenge I could master.
I felt a calm settle itself in my belly, and a soft confidence arose. I didn’t necessarily know where I was going, but I finally had the knowing that I was finding my way.
So yeah, I still don’t quite understand why I set out on this trip, and I certainly don’t know where my life is headed next. I used to think that I had no sense of where I needed to go, and I was wrong. Because right here, in this moment, I know I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. And that’s enough.