What People Don’t Tell You About Travelling:

12.03.18

And where to find a friendly face

In a city I do not yet

Know how to love.

Some days are not that exciting:

Often you wake up and the clouds are heavy with rain. Sightseeing doesn’t seem all too appealing. You’re saturated with information from countless museums and exhibitions. You’ve met that same person for coffee twice already, and you feel foolish asking for a third. You’ve mastered how to spend time alone and are craving contact, but finding a friendly face in a large city is a task too overwhelming to bear.

Today is that day for me. Admittedly, I have wasted time this morning not knowing where to be or what to do. And the only rational answer is just to give in.

Settling into a new place is tough and it’s only today that I’m realising the gravity of that statement. Like at home, some days will seem like they are lacking in excitement and productivity. Often, I feel lazy. I berate myself for not taking complete advantage of my freedom to travel and immerse myself in everything, but then I remember that I am here for six months, not six days. Not every day has to be jam-packed with activity. Some days you will need to recharge.

Part of finding my balance, improving my mental health and opinion of myself, was taking the pressure off myself to constantly be achieving.

Tell yourself in these moments of self-doubt that time is in abundance. If today is not the day that you order your coffee in the native language, or learn to stand on your head in yoga, then tomorrow will be.

Not everything is always at your fingertips:

There is countless material online about what to do in your country of choice: classes to join, people to meet, things to see. The internet makes everything seem so accessible. You can type in a key word and millions of results pop up, beckoning you to click on them.

Being research-savvy is essential and takes practice. Admittedly I have not yet found the knack. I have spent whole mornings wading through a whole host of sites looking for yoga classes, language-speaking classes etc. only to find out that they are miles away, or perhaps not to my preference.

Some days, you will feel out of the loop.

Often, I have found word of mouth to be the most effective means of finding relevant information. Facebook groups such as ‘Free advice Berlin’ and ‘Girl-Gone International’ have become my best friend here. You can post any number of info requests from where to buy house plants, to how best to negotiate with a medical professional as an international person, to suggesting an idea for a meet-up in a specific area. I’ve learnt that people like to help and I have made connections as a result.

You are fundamentally the same person you were when you left home:

Travel brings perspective, and I’ve certainly had a large dose of that since temporarily moving to Berlin. I see certain aspects of myself in a new light, and have already conquered minor personal fears, but ultimately, I am the same person as I was when I left. I still have the same fears and anxieties, stresses and insecurities.

A change in geography does not relieve you of all emotional baggage. You may feel liberated, but parts of you will still labour with the weight of thoughts and feelings you had back home. This has been an important lesson to me.

An experienced traveller knows that, in any location, there will be good and bad days. There will be days where you have to affirm your purpose. Mine was to learn how to exist out of planning and structure, learning how to just ‘be’.

Don’t reduce this time by attempting to squeeze activity into each day. Just ‘being’, not ‘doing’, is important progress to make too.

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Finding my Balance: My Changing Concept of ‘Home’

Home to me is the sensation of peace on a Sunday morning; the sound of the cathedral bells tolling for morning service; the comforting memory of my mum’s bangles jingling on her wrists; the raucous sound of my brothers running up and down the stairs; my dad elegantly playing the piano and then pausing to slowly pace across the wooden floorboards in the wake of a new idea.

The word ‘home’ can mean any number of things to a person. One of the first questions we ask people when we first meet them is ‘Where do you live?’, or ‘Where do you come from?’ Home is our conception of self, the foundation of our identity. Feeling like you have an origin is an essential part of human nature. We are lone wolves, but we will always be part of a pack.

At five am this morning, I woke up contemplating the Western definition of ‘home’. We associate home with comfort, stability, the familiar. But what if home can be the new and unfamiliar?

Before I moved away, home was a place almost too comfortable to motivate me to make a change. Feeling grounded did little to shake off my feelings of despondency. But what if home is meant to be somewhere that challenges you, somewhere that makes you feel unsafe in order to hurl you out into the unknown? What if home can be mobile, transient, ever-changing?

Over time, we cultivate our lives in many different homes. We shed one shell and adopt another.

It’s been three weeks since I moved to Berlin and already my concept of home has changed. I have found home in myself: my passions, my interests, my own company. Home is still a sanctuary, but it has been constructed out of my own being. Home is no longer a physical place, but a concept.

Home is a place to be content, even if you are far away from those you love. Home for me is where I spend time alone, cultivate ideas, immerse myself in culture, literature, the things I love; learn to speak to myself more kindly, reward myself for small personal triumphs. For now, home is within myself and it’s a powerful feeling.

Home doesn’t just have to be with the familiar. Establishing home in yourself actually involves wading through tides of the unfamiliar. It’s surprising how much we conceal from ourselves.

Making home within yourself involves opening the floodgates to emotion. One cannot know oneself without first knowing how to feel.

Home can be any number of places, but it’s comforts are defined by simple, blissful moments that remind you of where you belong. It is in your own concept of home where the fragments of your life are unified. You will leave parts of you in different places and with different people, but home reminds you of what is absolutely true and integral to your life and character.

Home is the place where my facades are shed. I am entirely myself. Imperfect, flawed, but me.

Home is substantial, safe, secure. Places are home. People are home. You, your mind, your body, is home.

 

 

 

Finding my balance: My thoughts on temporarily uprooting.

‘And who will care, who will chide you if you wander away from wherever you are, to look for your soul?’ – Mary Oliver, ‘Have you ever tried to enter the long black branches.’

I came across this poem recently and was intrigued by the wistful tone of its words. All the questions I’ve ever contemplated about life, the future, seemed to be encapsulated in every stanza. It seemed to dispel every negative thought I’d ever considered on these themes. And then, this line:

 ‘Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?’

Breathing. So natural. So necessary. Sustaining. Comfortable. Second nature. With the calling of ‘Listen’ I physically halted. Perhaps I was only breathing just a little, and not even noticing. I had become so comfortable in my life that every thought and action was undertaken completely independently of my mind. I had switched to autopilot.

Monotony, routine, is a killer to the creative soul, but is also the antidote to a person who, like myself, lacks in confidence. That’s not to say that I knock routine. I need it, in fact. But having too rigid a structure provided me with too much of a comfort blanket. My best ideas and decisions are often bred in the most unsettling of circumstances.

It got me thinking that a lot of people consider life to be linear. There’s only a certain time and place where things can be done. Travelling can only be done in your gap-year. Job changes can only occur once every decade. Children come after career. Years roll on. These are perhaps bad examples. Perhaps I sound like too much of a young vigilante. But why must we all walk this undeviating line? Surely there is room to stray from the path, go forwards, backwards, upwards, downwards.

My masterplan was to take a strategic sidestep.

Instead of just breathing a little I decided to inhale a whole host of dreams and ideas. I wanted to travel, but I realised that I was never going to be the backpacker to Thailand. Instead, I have arranged to live in Berlin for six months, perhaps longer. It was art, lifestyle, language, literature that I was craving, and what better place for this than an international hub of culture like the German capital.

I’ve always been an over-analyser. I drive myself and my friends mad with my tendency to kill every good situation with my scrutinising eye. I realise that a lot of this sense of caution has been cultivated in me since I was a child.

Things can get heavy when too long at home. After graduating from University and moving back to the family home, I found myself becoming embroiled in circumstances that I could not change and it weighed heavily upon me. We all have our shackles and it is hard to know how onecan shed them, or even if we should. I found that I was always wearing the name of someone else upon my lips which prevented me from forming any articulate idea about my own future plans. I don’t want to escape, I just want to carve out a little mental space for myself.

I decided in the New Year that I no longer want to live a life poised in fear and apprehension. I titled this blog, ‘Finding my balance’ and this is what I intend to do to move forward. Help to relieve the burdens of others without being crushed under the weight of them. Acknowledge negativity but not be overthrown by it. Be disciplined, not obsessional. Labour for love of others, and for myself afterwards, but then learn to relax.

Berlin is about me fashioning my own narrative and taking control of my own circumstances. I needed something different, something inspiring. This is me seeking out the extent of my strength and capability, learning more about myself in the hope that I’ll be more certain of my future by the time that I return.

I am blessed every day for the life I lead and for the people I have around me, and this is what will bolster me for the months ahead. I hope to find myself in six month’s time with a renewed sense of positivity. My faith in life is still unfaltering.

I am still searching for what it is that truly motivates and excites me. My blog is called ‘Finding my Muse’ because that’s what I am doing: in life and in words.

#lifestyle #culture #personal

#DailyLife