I'm Leaving

I'm crying as I'm writing this. Nostalgia I guess. It's in moments like these we get to pause. Turn around and look back for a bit.

After three months of solo travel I'm at last leaving for Canada. It has probably been my life's most eventful period yet. What will the next chapter bring?

I'm thinking about my days in grade school—the friends I made. I'm thinking about the trips I've done. The insights they've spurred. Most memories are episodic mundanities. A late-night text exchange, standing up for your friend. Things you didn't think much of but that clung on as emotional passengers.

It is clear what is meaningful in retrospect. Not highs per se. Hard hikes, odd encounters. Moments of dread, courage, love and despair. The challenges. Because whether we turn them around or not, through we nonetheless go. Exiting, here.

Just finished this book Vagabonding. Already thinking about what the next adventure will bring. I want to drive across the US and walk the woods of Canada. I want to surf in Hawaii. I want to speak to melancholic Russians, and do justice to Asia. I want to stroll the savannah, climb Kilimanjaro, and meditate in India. I want to sail to Antarctica. I want to do Ayahuasca in Peru.

It is in moments like these we see how much is happenstance. I have previously understood this, but—for some reason—kept resisting the idea. Now it is clear: I did not decide where to be born... To be born. I did not pick my teachers. I did not choose my single mom or alcoholic dad. My entire childhood, I had virtually no say in what food I ate, activities I did, or people I met. But I am forever grateful. I thank it all.

So much that has shaped me, I did not choose. How to claim agency? Because I am you, and you are me. Not everything happens for a reason, but reason makes everything happen. May this not slip my mind. But when it does, may it peacefully rearise and everything is going to be okay. As it is, already.