The problem with traveling alone and the solution's plan

It occured to me today the weird pace of life I've been living for the past 6 months, and the effect that it has on my emotions and psychology. There are two speeds at which I generally move while on this fellowship: very slow or very fast. And when things are moving fast, all I want is for them to slow down. And when things are slow, all I want is for them to speed up. I've been in a sort of rut lately, slowly feeling like I'm going to emerge out of it soon though, thank goodness. At first I thought it was just the anxiety of being stagnant for so long (I've been in sydney for 3 weeks now). But upon examining the true nature of my emotions, and their timeliness, I think I've uncovered an interesting hurdle in my trip. A few weeks ago, my twin brother came to sydney to visit me. It was a great visit, and wonderful to see him, especially since I hadn't really seen him for almost 7 months. While he was here, I had such a great time; I had someone to talk to, someone to share my experiences with. But now that he's gone, the empty space he left is daunting. I know it was always there, and the feeling of loneliness was always in the back of my mind previously. But now, I'm afraid, it's been brought to the forefront and the silence in my small newtown room when I wake is louder than the morning busses rumbling past. It's a silence that has been staying in my head for days now, turning me into a dull pendulum swinging between anxiousness and sadness. It wasn't really even my brother in particular that triggered this spell, mostly I think it's homesickness in a disguise of nervousness. His presence reminded me of stability, of home, of calling a place home and being around people I know and places that are familiar and comfortable. It reminded me of how incredibly unstable it is to be traveling the world this way, always unsure of the next step. And that instability, though I often crave it, frightens me more than most things.

Although I'm pretty much living my dream right now, traveling, spending time with poets and artists, and of course finishing my book, I've been exploring certain shadowy feelings that seem to follow me. Mostly that I seem to meet such wonderful people in my life, and then suddenly, our once beautiful relationship is reduced to an occasional facebook message or instant message conversation. I often look with a bit of envy on those who have sustained long-lasting proximal relationships with people, and wonder if I simply am not capable of doing such a thing, or if it's just my lifestyle that prohibits me from doing so. I feel lucky, but often unworthy of such a great trip that I am on, because some days all I want is an apartment and a big dog and a boyfriend and a car and a job. Somedays the idea of working in a cafe for the rest of my life sounds pretty good, and I want to just give up this nomadic pursuit. That's the problem about traveling alone. It forces you to look inward and compare who you think you are and what you think you want to who you really are and what you've got.

Perhaps the luxuries that come along with stability will come to me later in life, and I will look back on my time on the road fondly, envious of my former self and her innocence "I didn't know how good I had it". I knew this trip would be a challenge for me from the start. It was something I had anticipated. Maybe that's why these fellowships are so difficult to obtain- they need to be sure that in times like these the fellows don't chicken out.

Times like these, when you're forced to face your irrational emotions head on, are not the times when I want to back out or go home. This is the time to dive in head first. It's similar to what a friend told me shortly after arriving in spain- if you're going to be culture shocked, you might as well really go all the way.

So that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm moving to Maroubra tomorrow, a small suburb of Sydney that lies along the coast. It boasts a beautiful beach and some of the best surfing waves around. A change of scene will be good. It'll be a good place for me to get my poetry in order. The new season is beginning this saturday, with a challenge to break a world record for the world's largest poem. Then, a slam in glebe. Next I'll be off to Melbourne for two poetry readings and hopefully at least three interviews. Immediately afterwards, I'll hop on a plane to New Zealand, attend a slam and a featured poetry reading, and perhaps an open mic or two, explore the mountains etc. Then back to Sydney for the first Sydney Spoken Word Poetry Festival. Then after that, I'm still sort of figuring it out. There might be a trip to Adelaide in the cards, and another trip back up to Brisbane (since I now know where to find the poets).

I have a strange belief that the universe has a plan for us. I'm not really keen on the whole fate idea or the predestination bit, but I do think there is a natural flow and order to things, and if we choose to listen to the right signs, things tend to work themselves out. I think I've been doubting myself a lot, and that doubt is throwing myself back into my head. It echoes so much so that I can't hear the signs. I get so caught up in the drama I create for myself that I can't see what's unfolding right infront of me. I keep fearing that I'm makng the wrong decisions when instead I should just go with it because there are very few truly wrong decisions in life. Moving out of my apartment? It's an adventure. Sure, it's going to be a pain to find a new place, but if that's the situation I'm in, that's where I am. It can't be the wrong path, because it just is. I think it's very rare to hit a brick wall in life, a dead end. There's always a door. If there's no door, there's a window. If there's no window there's always a shovel. Always.

Maybe it's just me, but I think the shovel makes for the best stories anyway.