On my first morning in Australia, I woke up with a deep sigh. It was the kind of sigh that you let out when you arrive somewhere and the sensation of relaxation washes over you, like “Aaah, vacation starts now.” Which is funny, really, because I’ve been on vacation for five months. After five months of backpacking Africa, the gratitude I felt wasn’t for what I’d seen — but for where I finally was: here, now.
In a sense, what I am grateful for is for having done something, so that now I can slow down. “Okay, now you’ve seen the world, checked off some boxes, so you can take a break.” I’ve been waiting to give myself permission to rest. Given that half of the intention of this trip is to heal, it is permission that I should have given myself from the beginning, but even on vacation I’ve still got it twisted in my mind that I need to earn rest.
This is part of what needs healing. This idea that safety, slowness, and peace is something to be sipped in small doses, rather than a state of being that fills me and becomes me, as I move through the world.
I am craving to sit still. To root down. To find connection in community, and with myself.
I’m also eager to see Australia. But not until I quench this thirst for stillness.
