Since moving from Australia to Spain three years ago, life has been … a fucking wild ride.
Learning a new language and culture. Setting up my own freelance writing business. Navigating Spain’s suffocating bureaucracy to secure visas and business permits and the million and one papers needed for even the smallest things. Making new friends (because I knew exactly zero people here when I moved). Recovering from a back injury that left me unable to walk for a month.
Finding my feet in a place where everything felt foreign and strange and new and often really, really scary.
It’s been a journey within, too. I’ve been challenged in so many ways, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. Asked so many times to leave behind old ways of thinking and step into something entirely new. Sometimes I’ve nailed it. Sometimes I’ve epically failed.
I feel like I’m a different person now. More honestly me. More emotional. More sensitive. More raw.
And I’m not sure where this new me fits into the world.
I’ve been feeling like this for months, actually. Out of synch. Off centre. In the wrong place. Exhausted. Unmotivated. Like this new me no longer fits the life the old me created. Yet unsure of the path ahead.
I feel like I’ve done absolutely everything I possibly could to get clearer. Meditated, exercised and journalled like a fiend. Had loads of kinesiology sessions. Tuned in and asked (at times begged) for help. I’ve even physically cleared away things that no longer served me – clothes, papers, digital files and, painfully, relationships that no longer felt right.
And still, nothing. The path ahead remains frustratingly unclear.
My head screams for certainty. My heart simply says: “Rest.”
Painful and frustrating as that may be, that’s obviously where I need to be right now. Not pushing for answers. Just sitting in the uncertainty, listening and trusting that the next step will appear at the right time.
I guess I’m realising that sometimes, there truly is no need for action. Sometimes just sitting mindfully still is the only way forward.
And that’s okay, if we allow it to be. It doesn’t have to mean we’re broken or fucked or failing.
Waiting and resting can be just another part of growth, like a tree that lies dormant in winter, collecting its energy before bursting into bloom in spring.
So I’m taking a break, of sorts.
On Wednesday, I’ll step away from my laptop to go work on an organic farm in the UK for a month. To get out into the sunshine and rain and fresh air and dirt. To work hard physically every day. To give my mind a break, a rest from the constant questioning. To let my heart recover from the pain of a recent break up. To release myself from the pressure of trying to fix things or figure shit out.
And to just see what happens.
See what emerges.
Alana’s taking over podcasting while I’m gone (thanks, Lans). I may pop up every now and then, or I may not. I don’t know. I’m steering away from plans, for once.
Just letting it all go. And surrendering to trust.
(The photo’s one I took a couple years back at the incredible ancient Roman aqueduct in Segovia, north of Madrid.)