I’m moving across the world
I think people (including myself) disregard the fact that we may not make it through this decade, we may not make it through this year even.
Once you sit in the truth that your body will once again be returned to the earth, you begin to live more presently in the life that floods your body.
I was dancing the other night, in a small bar in an even smaller town. There was a live band playing. I came into the night wanting to dance, and dance hard, enough to sweat, even more to drip. I think people are surprised sometimes by the sight of women dancing passionately, even more so when they are alone. The bar was empty, and it was mostly just me and a few other women dancing in the middle of the dance floor with the band in front of us.
There were points of internal resistance where I was thinking perhaps I was being absurd, or the people around me would look to me with disdain. But I was flooded with this feeling that I had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.
I could not be harmed by judgement of others because I would not allow that fear hinder me from the life force that was coursing through me.
I am so young, and potentially could have another 60-80 years of life to live, and I sure hope that I do. But nothing is guaranteed, and I seem to forget that a lot of the time.
The greatest thing that holds us back in life is fear.
Over the past few months I have received every form of reaction from people after I tell them I’m moving across the world.
“They have Great White shark attacks all the time in New Zealand”
“You’re going alone? What are you going to do if you get hurt? Lost?”
“Alone?!? But you’re a woman.” (Can’t make this sh*t up)
Here’s the thing. People will always tell you things to be scared of. Because truthfully, life on earth as a human is really f*cking scary. 250,000 people are trapped in Turkey right now with little to no hope of rescue. Those people were going about their day as they would, and boom, disaster.
Moving in general is scary. Moving across the world without knowing a soul, is terrifying. And I will not lie and say that I’m fearless, in the slightest. But I figured that life is about learning to keep living through the fear.
“I know of no better life purpose than to perish in attempting the great and impossible. The fact that something seems impossible shouldn’t be a reason to not pursue it, that’s exactly what makes it worth pursuing. Where would the courage and greatness be if success was certain and there was no risk. The only true failure is shrinking away from life’s challenges.”
So why now? Why New Zealand?
I went on my first solo trip this summer to Italy. I was on the train to Florence from a small coastal town called Castiglioncello. It was sunset, and I was passing through the gorgeous Tuscan countryside. I had my headphones on listening to my favorite Palace song. At the time, I had full intention to move to New York. I had an apartment, job prospects, and truthfully, I was really f*cking excited to move.
But then out of nowhere, there was this powerful voice that coerced me in place. I was still, and felt sick to my stomach. It sounded like myself, but more eloquent, an older version of myself.
“You can’t move to New York”, they said. Doubt, and fear rushed through me.
“You have to keep traveling, it’s what you truly want, you are capable, you have to.”
I didn’t tell anyone about the train ride for three days. I was too scared. It felt out of my control. There was this force that was driving my future and sure, I had the power to stop it, but I have never felt something as profound as that moment in my whole life.
I like to think it was the higher version of myself that spoke to me that day on the train. Maybe it was God, or maybe I’m just f*cking crazy.
But it was that moment that brought me to now.
So here we are, a week from today I will be walking the streets of Auckland, NZ with nothing but hopes for adventure and new connection.
And whenever the fear creeps in, or slams down the door, I remind myself of the day on the train, and the woman that saved me.
