A few days ago I passed the halfway mark of this amazing journey I’m on. Halfway through the six months. In some ways it feels like I just landed a few days ago and others it feels like I have been here forever. When you reach some sort of a milestone you usually take a look at where you are heading and I am no different. I took a long good look at myself and my stocktaking led to some conclusions.
The biggest one? I still don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. But I do know how I feel. I wake in the morning and I feel right on my inside. Of course there are days when all I want to do is crawl under the nearest rock and just curl up there and hide. But I discovered that is part of me. It is okay to not always be happy. It is okay to shout at the world. It is okay to feel sad. There is nothing wrong with these feelings. So in a way I guess it meant that I have accepted myself. More honestly accept myself, for who I am. No hiding behind little sweet words and smiles. It is just me now.
Part of this stocktaking also made me realise that this life I have now, just writing everyday, no matter whether it gets published or read, this is what I want to do. This is how I want my life to be. I met an amazing artist recently and she has this outlook on life that speaks to me in some way. Live life without worrying about it. Be free. Trust that you will be taken care of. Now for my control freak mind that would have been a total no go zone a few months ago. But have I not been doing exactly that for three months now? Have I not gotten in my car with no idea of where I am going, just a general direction and every night I have had a safe bed to sleep in? Every time I think shit I don’t know which way I’m going to go now to get out of this, some door opens and wham it is sorted?
So the next step in this thinking is why can’t I do this when I get back to London? Why can’t I just trust things will take care of themselves? I don’t know. I don’t know if a person can be this free all the time. At some point you would want a more permanent place to stay right? Some sort of a home base that you can go back to, where your things are. Isn’t that just how we have been conditioned to think though? Or is it something inherently build into our DNA? Do we really need a place to call home? Do we need a roof and some walls? Here in South Africa I have my mom, she has been here every time I need a roof. Very patiently she takes me in every time. But in London I will be completely flying blind. Is that possible I wonder? Can a person do that?
I have this very special person having my back up there in the northern hemisphere. He has been with me every step of this journey. He’s been there when I cry and think all is lost, he’s been there when I fly on my magic carpet, he’s been there to shake me awake when it had to be done, he’s been silent when he needed to be. In the end isn’t that all we need? Someone to be there for us. Someone we can trust with our insides? Maybe for now that is all I should think about. Just this amazing journey I am on and the amazing people I have around me supporting me. Not think about what happens in three months time. Just live in the moment like I have for the past three months and let the future sort itself out.
We all carry a certain amount of darkness inside of us. Some of us ignore it completely. Some embrace it to such an extend that they do things that society frowns upon, abhor even. Some try and walk that fine line of both living in the shadow world and the real world.
Since I’ve began my journey I have experienced many things, I have seen many things and I have changed. There are those who would say for the worse, but I think it is all just a matter of perspective. How you look at it. Where you come from.
Leaving my husband was certainly one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. If it was so hard I hear you say, why did you leave? Yes, that is a valid question. And I don’t always know the answer. It depends on my state of mind when you ask as to what response you’ll get. In the end all I can say is that it felt like the right thing to do inside of me, the right thing to do for me.
I chose the life of an artist. I choose to be free, to discover things inside myself, both good and bad. This journey I’m on both terrifies me and liberates me. Freedom is not what we all make it out to be you know. No security no home. Yes that may be the ultimate freedom, but it comes at a price. It has it’s own challenges too.
So much of who we are and how we define ourselves depends on where we live and what job we do. Think about it, the first thing people ask you when they meet you is: Where are you from? By that they mean where do you live right? Where is your home? And the usual response is some sort of suburb in some city or town. But I got none of that now.
The next question is what do you do? Meaning what is your job right? What company do you work for? I have no job right now. I am a writer yes. But soon as you say that they ask what books have you written. And I have no books published, so it means I can’t be a writer if I have not had a novel published. Right?
I wonder do people realise the pressure they put others on when they ask these questions. It is not that I am not proud of what I do I just sometimes don’t know how to answer. I’ve come up with a line: I’ve lived in London for the past ten years, now I’m traveling through South Africa for a few months. That is all they need to know.
I discovered Murakami only recently. The way the man writes about light and dark, the way he writes about what is real and what is in the mind, the way he takes you with his books. Murakami makes me want to live in his worlds of reality mixed with dreams and fantasy. So now I am building that world for myself. In fact I think I’m past building, I’m living it. I’m living in my own Murakami world.