I am in a new place. Living a completely different life. It has only been 2 weeks. I’m slow to settle in and find my groove.
I was working 9 hours a day in the city and waiting for the weekend to come so I could socialize, relax, and let go. It was a routine life. I always saw the same people and did the same things. I felt tired all the time. A bit frustrated at times. Even bored. Floating away from the type of person that I had been aiming for.
Being a teacher was interesting. You have to hold it together in front of everyone all day. You have to be patient, kind, understanding, willing to explain, but also strong and regulated. I tried to be an example for my students. I tried to teach them things about life, not just what the book said. I tried really hard to be interesting, engaging, and inspiring. It takes more energy than you would think. By the end of the week, all I wanted to do was throw my inhibitions away, talk shit, swear, and drink.
I loved to stay out all night dancing and saying yes to drugs if anyone was offering. I would sleep in and take a yoga class or go on a long drive into the mountains. I hated most having to avoid police check points and the air quality. I felt like I was constantly flipping through the same book. Over and over again. I loved it, but I was ready for something else.
I was going through a break up at the time and felt like it would be healthy for me to go away for a while. I began applying to teach yoga at retreat centers all over the world: Maldives, Morocco, Cambodia, India, Hawaii, and so on. Nothing was working out. I had one last interview with a retreat center in the Philippines and I told myself that if this didn’t work out, I would finish out the semester and look again in December.
The interview was a flowing conversation with laughter. Easy and natural. A few days later I quit my job and booked a one way ticket. I was worried about money, but I told myself that I would find a way to stretch it. I broke my lease and moved my excess stuff to a friend’s house. I was surprised at how many things were mine. That I held onto. It all happened so fast that I thought I’ll just take myself and a backpack to the Philippines and worry about all the logistics later. Sometimes I think that if something happened to the stuff that I left behind in Chiang Mai, I wouldn’t care.
I am here now living on a quiet island. Teaching yoga. Sounds of the ocean in the background. Eating well. Coming and going on a bicycle. Taking naps sometimes, And writing. Actually, I have never been luckier. I am really living. I am not stressed or yelling at kids because they didn’t do their homework. Finally, I am giving myself the space to just be and do something that I love. Work that enriches my soul.
Now, I wait for my soul to blossom. To feel and rejuvenate. To go deep within myself. To understand my path. To find my calling.
In a sense, I am already there. But I always want to know more. Go further. I am always seeking.