Okay, I’ll just start. I’ve felt change brewing, internally and externally, with a million ideas forming in my mind every day and not enough hours in the day to bring them to fruition. Some fall away, of course, others are put on a slow burn, and some die. It is the way of ideas and I’m kinda used to it, but it’s left me without the words to write about where I’m at.
Because, quite truthfully, I’m everywhere. I’m writing a guide to Playa del Carmen, well, I’ve pretty much written it, but it needs finishing touches, edits and final details. Details, oh how I despise them. I’m an ideas person, and I dream of the day when I have minions to take care of the details while I draft wild, grand ideas.
Anyway, I’m reliving the past year as I’m writing about my favorite tostada restaurant, or the hotel my friend stayed at or the untouched beach we visited and I’m nostalgic for this past year which has brought me so much while I spent it wondering the whole time what my purpose was.
My purpose, I now think, was to have done all the things I have done, including all the Keeping Up With The Kardashian episodes I have watched, and all the ice-cream I have eaten, and all the moments of stillness and clarity I’ve had and all the confusion and struggle and self-doubt and explosive joy I’ve experienced.
All of it has been perfectly imperfect, which gives me faith that the next leg of the journey will be equally challenging and rewarding and difficult and confusing and explosively joyful too.
So I keep taking the next step, asking for guidance from the creative spirit who bore me into existence with the very real knowledge that I have no idea what’s next. I write, I plan, I come up with ideas, I dream and I stew and I work, in the hope that I’m on the right path, no, wait, knowing that I am on the right path even if the things I think I want don’t happen, because I’ve learned that my ideas for my happiness are not always the best ones.
I am continually reminded of this, and I love the days when my mind is opened to the possibility of something other than what I thought I wanted.
I love it when I am shown the way, rather than hacking through the jungle of life with my blunt machete.
I love it when I hear, “Relax, chill out, what is meant to be will be,” loud and clear.
Like today. I dragged myself to yoga, worked my body and cleared my mind (slightly), air kissed my yogi friends and actually understood the class in Spanish.
I returned home to shower then sat still for a few more minutes, because the yoga is great, but the whole point of doing the physical part, apparently, is to prepare for stillness of mind and body, and I find they cut that part way too short. So, I sat, in the dark, on my special cushion I haggled over in Barmer, a little known Rajasthani town (oh how I do love name-dropping obscure global locations), to be with myself. You know, that inner part that doesn’t have plans or designs or ideas but is pure Nothingness and Everythingness all at once.
It’s dark, this inner place I go, and warm, and loving. I suppose you could call it God, but perhaps not everybody’s God feels like a hug from a plump southern black woman like mine does.
Anyway, I sat in that ‘hug’ from my loving inner self for a while, until the smell of the coffee Tyrhone was brewing smelled better than it.
Oh, I forgot to mention Tyrhone barging in a few times, probably to tell me about something really exciting like the latest season of ‘Community’ he downloaded, then retreating without a word, requiring no explanation from me. I love this. I love that I don’t need to tell him what I am doing on a cushion in the dark in the bathroom. More than you will ever know.
Then, we decided it was ‘treat day’ and I took little to no convincing that it was a good idea to get our favorite almond croissants for breakfast.
And then, despite having so much to do, I found myself writing a story with no intended destination, out of the pure joy of it and I had such a fine time extracting the words from my psyche to convey the memory of this one day last year that has, for some reason, stayed with me.
Somehow, it was then 3 o’clock and I remembered that I had looked at this travel writing contest but that at the time could not for the life of me come up with One. Single. Word. to enable me to enter it, and that maybe, just maybe, what I had just spent the day writing might be a fit. Bugger it if it wasn’t, I’d enter anyway.
Then as it was still treat day we wandered down to our favourite local pizza joint for a ‘La Mexicana para llevar por favor’ and ate it joyfully while watching the beautifully poignant ‘Her’ in a state of complete and utter rapture. I became very inspired by art and quality work, vowing to dedicate myself to those two things, just as soon as we do all the other things that are on the horizon.
Because, while waiting for pizza, we accidentally had a rather important chat about a rather large thing, and we both decided that Tyrhone should take the next step toward pursuing his dream of learning to paramotor which he wrote about the other day. It was an unexpected yet bizarrely natural decision and we came to it via the usual weighing up of pro’s and con’s and universal truths about fear and dreams and the fleeting nature of life.
It was basically the year-long conversation we had leading up to our long-term travel adventure, condensed into 20 minutes or less.
Our near future almost-decided, we enjoyed a beautiful film then wandered the streets of Playa with a spring in our step, joking and laughing and not taking ourselves or anyone else very seriously at all, as though we had discovered the secret that nothing actually is.
It was marvelous.
Then, as I anxiously awaited the Keeping Up With the Kardashians new season to start, chocolate brownie at the ready, I realised it wasn’t starting until next week. So, ‘Suits’ it was, while I wondered if Louis Litt and I would be as great friends as I imagined we would.
And now here I am, after teeth-brushing time, when computers and phones are banned by anti-social (media) Tyrhone, telling you about my magnificently normal day when it felt like all was well in the world, including mine.
Because it is, it always is, and always will be, no matter how much I wonder or hope or worry.
I sat down here because I felt like I had everything and nothing to say, and it turns out I was right.