Tuesday, April 28, 2015
This afternoon I found myself in the corner of a bright patisserie enjoying a crepe while scribbling musings in my coral colored notebook. This unapologetically pink patisserie features flawlessly constructed pastries, too perfect to touch, let alone consume like the ravenous hyena I become when around complex carbohydrates. This afternoon I found myself smiling as I gazed around the flirtatious whimsy of my surroundings in Montreal, with sounds of French conversations lending an ideal soundtrack to my day that I hardly believe the universe gave me to enjoy. This afternoon I found myself in a state of happiness.
My circumstances haven't changed at all, and yet I feel like a wholly different person. I'm still a meandering soul with no fixed address. I have yet to secure a steady income, dental coverage, or own a piece of furniture. But I can say with great confidence something I did not posses the assurance to say aloud for well over a year and actually mean it: It's going to be okay. I am okay.
I sincerely do not know where each week will take me. Since my early twenties, I lacked the ability to plan anything too distant in the future as (un)employment, graduate school, and immigration dictated my whereabouts and threatened longterm stability. I've become used to the feelings of short term settings and securities. However, as I inch toward thirty, I find myself with even smaller pockets of stability. I don't begin to blame the universe for my chaos, I chose it. I could have focused my energy on creating a stable family life, but instead I pushed forward with unstoppable energy to obtain an advanced education. I could have chosen a career path with stable job opportunities, handsome salaries, and easier availability of foreign visa sponsorship. I didn't. I decided I didn't want to be someone I'm not.
So why do I feel as if I've changed? Because I have. Sure, my LinkedIn profile has remained at a steady "searching for new opportunities" but my introspection over the past year, specifically the last few months, has gifted me new insights into my own psyche, which in turn has created some peace of mind.
I crave chaos. I thrive in chaos. For the last month I've had the good fortune to travel around North America literally by air, bus, plane, ship, car, train. I continuously find myself in new cities with old friends sharing warm laughter. There is no return ticket for me. I keep buying last minute one ways. Tomorrow I leave to Vermont to visit with an old friend from my old life in Austin (and eat a maple creamee or nine). Thursday I swing down to continue building chapters in my greatest love story, Boston. I sincerely do not know when I will return to where my 6 boxes of personal items are collecting dust at my brother's residence in Alberta. It's chaotic, and it makes me feel alive. Anyone who knows me from high school/ college/ b-school days knows that I work well under pressure, and continuously leave things to the last minute -- because like I said-- I thrive in chaos. It motivates me, it stirs my adrenaline, and produces business reports that are ass numbingly dull, but well written. Chaos creates my inspiration.
This realization that I invite this chaos into my life, must also translate into the opposite being true. If I crave stability and security, I could switch my gears and focus my energy into welcoming those instead. I could have chosen the life in the suburb, the fuel efficient car, the accounting job with an oil company. I could choose the taupe walls. I could choose the neutral nail polish instead of obnoxious sparkles. But I didn't. I won't. I'm meant to take the road less traveled. I'm meant to roll the dice. I take risks. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, and I'm exactly the person I'm supposed to be, even though society tells me I'm doing it all wrong.
There's a risk out there that's waiting for me, the one I've been searching for this whole time. It knows -- just as I've come to learn-- it's all going to be okay, kiddo.