Saul Bellow once wrote he was "always in the doghouse" because he exposed people in his life through his writing in ways that made them uncomfortable. I've never valued anything over human relationships, not even writing. So, having learned from Bellow's experiences, this post has been read over by the one I mention here, and given permission to be published by him, too. (So much appreciation, you. Thanks for being who you are. So grateful for our time together.)
What does travel bring to you?
This Wednesday, after nearly a year, I will be stepping back on a plane and leaving Toronto for a while. I'm headed to the states to spend time with my sister—doing nothing more with my days than working from her quiet, residential house that overlooks a forest, and heading to the beach on the weekends.
I truly cannot wait. After being couped up in the city for way too long now, I'm in desperate need for a pullback. To wake up in a space with a backyard to ground in, with enough quiet to hear my own thoughts in... it will be a dream. Plus, of course, I'll be with my sissy, and that is fantasy in and of itself as I really don't spend enough time with her.
What I'm going through is a few layers of burnout. It tends to happen every year around this time, and unfortunately right now it's exacerbated by pain cropping up in my personal life. To be perfectly hazy about it all, someone was cut out of this chapter of my story today.
I've been sitting here trying to find the words for this feeling. But maybe they don't exist yet. Normally we write on the other side of experience, less so when we're still wrapped in it. Maybe words can't be put to feelings that are still soft and half-baked.
The thing that scares me though, I'll admit, is that I'm lying here wondering if these feelings will ever fully form. I say that as this situation was different. Usually, when someone is removed from the book of your life, a lot has happened to bring this about. There were fights, for example. Broken trust. Or, there were misalignments, too big to ignore. But this was a matter of geography and COVID, and in a way a sort of prevention of future downspiralling. And some more, sure. But not much.
The lack of those negative traits in this case brings about a standstill sort of pain. I mean, I did intentionally write this person was only cut out of this chapter, not the whole book, which should explain what I mean here. I'm not quite swallowing this idea that this story is over. Probably because we explicitly discussed how it may not be... Hm. I guess this is one of those blog posts that has no answers.
All I know is that all I can do is try to release, and that's how we come back to my question at the beginning.
What does travel bring? For me, it brings the fresh canvas I need to clear my head. And so I'm switching my lens now to one of gratitude, to be able to do that in the company of family, and so much green space, so many trees... it's a gift I don't intend to take for granted. If there's any environment in which I will find the ability to surrender to what the universe has in store for me, it's that one I'll be flying over to in 4 short days.
PS. You guys know, if you feel called to share anything with me, anything that's come up for you in reading this, I'm here for you. Just an email away, okay?