The 29th of December, 8:04 am.  Showered and dressed, cup of tea cooling on the side.  Can’t believe how quickly you have to drink a cup of tea in these winter months!  Rice is on the boil on the kitchen hob.  Looking forward to a nice grounding breakfast, before I head into Brighton to meet an old friend.

I’m feeling a little unsettled…impatient perhaps.  A long-standing affliction of mine.  I decide to do something – and I want it immediately. Have to keep learning to take a step back and let things breathe, let things grow – organically.

It’s difficult to find that balance between being proactive to just plain meddling;  and taking a step back to just being idle.  I hate to be idle.  I feel guilty and as if I have to keep justifying myself.  I like things to keep moving.  What I forget sometimes is that they are.  I don’t always have to be there watching over it, stirring things up, egging it on.  I’m trying to change my interpretation of things.  Take an action or two and then let it settle.  Give it time for a reaction to happen.  Let it be more fluid.  A natural exchange.

I suppose it’s a good thing that I want to get on.  That I’m eager to get started and established, and start to build up my life again.

I’m finding it easier to live in the now.  I feel much happier with life as it is, but I still plan for the future.  I still see this path in front of me, the way it winds towards a space of my own.  I see windows along the side – flash images of places I’ve never seen, and people I’m yet to meet.  There’s so much sunlight, and not an office desk in sight.

shala 2There are lots of yoga shalas.  Wooden floors with dusty corners, mats rolled out – blue and purple.  Sometimes I’m at the front of the class.  I look different.  Hair is longer and a lighter colour, I’m comfortable and at ease with myself looking out to everyone.  Other times I’m at the back, more focused and closed in.  Can just hear the breathing and the rhythm of palms and heels pressing firmly into their respective mats.

I can feel my future in Ayurveda and massage, and yoga and writing is always there.  This is just the beginning of something, so I have to remind myself that there’s no need to rush, or panic.  There’s no need to push or fight.

Each day I take an action or two.  Business cards have been distributed to my circles of friends, and 500 flyers are in the post, should get here by Monday.  Conversations have been had, and I’m buying myself a pocket diary for 2013 so I can start to inscribe the initial appointments for January and then let’s see where that takes me.

The only real weight around my neck is a loan I have to pay back.  It’s a bit of a jolt at the end of each month as it leaves my account with virtually nothing coming in to compensate.  But this whole experience has been invaluable in challenging, to its very core, my relationship to money, my understanding of what stability and security means.  I’m discovering what my bare necessities are…and I mean what they really are, not what society dictates.

I am feeling pressure from certain places.  Parts of me I’m yet to fully confront, social situations that shed light on insecurities I have, and frustrations created by my own impatience to move along.  But then whatever I have or don’t have to show for these choices I’ve made, I feel cleaner somehow.  Earthy images of stronger roots and the smells of fresh, damp soil surround me.  I don’t doubt, even for a second, how lucky I am to be in this place, at this stage of my life.  How grateful I am to the unwavering and patient support of my mum.

For every relationship that’s faltered, another has strengthened.  For every difficult emotion that’s surfaced, an unnecessary pain has been resolved.  For every material item I’ve lost, something unquantifiable has been gained.

I read back sometimes on the entries I wrote when I was back in Bali, Thailand and Burma.  I love that those lessons I learnt still resonate so richly.  How some of the profound moments I’ve had have so distinctly steered me.  How that feeling of beaming happiness is not solely attributed to those places, those memories…but something deep inside that was awakened and that I’ve carried with me.

chillaxing in the hammock

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