“Just go,” she said, so resolutely. “Don’t think about it, because when you think too hard you stop doing. Do while you can, and then think about it later.” Two hours into our coffee, we were jumping from place to place in her life, from her time in Tibet to South Africa to India to New Zealand to Portland back to New York City. She spoke effortlessly about each adventure, not hesitating between locations, hardly taking a breath. I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t wrap my head around each place, I couldn’t fathom breathing in such different air, hearing such different languages, being so far away from everything, alone. Only not.
Having the courage to leave is something I’ve been holding onto so tightly, something I held so close to me, to think that now I’m struggling with it all over again is both frustrating and exciting. It’s a familiar anxiety, but one that reminds me that I’m growing. This is when the stretching happens.
I am astonished with how easy it seems. Maybe it is that easy, when you stop thinking so much.
She sounded so sure that I could do it, that it was right. After so much skepticism and disbelief I thought I was asking too much of myself, too much of the world. But she made it so real. I feel like she’s someone I’m supposed to know. Dad says that’s because she is.
There was a moment when we were talking, maybe it lasted longer than a moment, I don’t know, where I realized that this was a turning point. This moment, this meeting, this person collected, was a catalyst. She was placed in front of me, with her “to go” cup rested next to my “for here” mug, to remind me of the beauty in uprooting myself, of letting go of what you know and holding on for dear life to what you don’t. Some moment of clarity reminded me that there never was a choice…what a familiar, overwhelming feeling.
It was like someone just woke me up, like someone just told me the truth. It reminded me of what it was like for my life to change—for it to mold and bend in and around an instant, without excuse or warning. I am so excited about my life.