There are a thousand moments in life whizzing by you, missed opportunities, mistakes, chances … they fly past you at the speed of light like a galaxy of unrecognized stars, blurring into background noise. One can grasp them, take hold and take flight, or ignore them all together. Some are monumental and some insignificant, but moments all the same, choices to be taken or passed up. But some moments change the course of a life. Some stars, previously seeming so far from reach, are only caught with a massive leap, without knowing for certain if you’ ll catch them at all, and even if you do, whether you’ ll be able to hold on through the ride. Those are the chances that most of the world passes by, the stars too fast, too bright, too high and too far to grab hold of. Most of the people stop recognizing them all together. But those are the stars that can change everything. And this was one of those very moments.
It would have been easy to stay. There was no reason for me to leave America other than the unquenchable desire to explore the unknown that had been bubbling underneath, unable to be silenced for the past six years. I had tried to bury it more than once, forcing myself to assimilate into the“ normal” American culture of a college graduate, boxing up all those far-fetched, irresponsible dreams and stacking them in the back of some closet I never could quite seem to lock. It always managed to come unhinged, all those dreams toppling out, refusing to be unheard, daring to be followed. And finally, by the age of 25, the pass. But they would be there still. Forever. Lingering. Waiting. Reminding. That I was too afraid.
Fear has no power when you run at it head on. It evaporates into thin air like the mirage it always was.
I am certain I am not the first person, nor the last to feel trapped by this American Dream that we’ ve been promised since birth. I am definitely not an anomaly, with everything inside of me rejecting this paint-by-number life and step-ladder that we are expected to climb. Now more than ever, millennials everywhere are struggling with this stereotype and some are even fighting against it. Most of them are probably following the order and have done everything as expected of them, but I guarantee there are a few who hear that nagging voice now and again that there must be something more. I’ m not special. I’ m not a trailblazer or by any means, fearless. What I am is simply a girl who refused to settle into the mold, who couldn’ t silence the beckon call of adventure, of the great big world, and who refused to stand still and let life happen to her.
Of course there were moments of doubt, of fear, of cursing myself for making such a drastic move without plans or knowledge of almost anything. But above all, were the moments of pure clarity, when everything clicked, when everything made sense and culminated in the utmost joy and most serene peace I had ever experienced. These gem-like moments didn’ t always come at
IT WAS STAGGERING, A TERRIFYING TSUNAMI OF SELF AWARENESS AND I REMEMBER FEELING HORRIFYINGLY SMALL YET SO IMPOSSIBLY HUGE AND CAPABLE, AS THE ENTIRE WORLD SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUSTED WITH INFINITE POSSIBILITIES …
W R I T I N G | P H O T O S: K T H O M A S only thing I was entirely sure of in my small life was that I would regret it forever if I did not at least find out. And the only thing I feared more than leaving itself, was never leaving at all.
So I left. Abandoning a job and life that I loved, I took my sheepish mound of a few thousand dollars, and without any more of a plan than ten flights spread out over 6 months that would turn into 13 and 11 countries that would turn into 21, I packed a backpack and fled the so desired“ American Dream.”
To my horror, people weren’ t all that excited about me embarking on a solo circumnavigation of the world. In fact, they were downright horrified. Confused why I would ever want to leave this place and certain that a 25 year old girl had no place exploring the world on her own. Didn’ t I know about the dangers, they would ask. But I couldn’ t speak any other languages, how will I possibly get on, they protested. And hadn’ t I ever seen the movie“ Taken”, they practically shouted.
Of course I was afraid. I was terrified. What I couldn’ t make them understand though was that that fear was my driving force. Always. The things I was most afraid of were the things that I forced myself to run into head on. Otherwise, they would just hover. Above my head. Forever. Like thoughts, dreams, premonitions, translucent type ideas that would never come to the top of South Africa’ s Table Mountain, in the middle of the Aegean Sea, amidst the Vatican, horseback riding North of the Pyrenees, in a Hindu Temple in Fiji, or floating along the Amalfi coast. Most of those beautiful moments blew in full force on gale winds landing right inside of me when I least expected it and bursting through me. Each time it hit me out of nowhere and I’ d be overcome with fits of giddy, childish laughter and joy, realizing that this is really my life and I am actually living this dream I’ d had for so long. No need for bucket lists when you’ re on one.
It wasn’ t a booming voice coming down from the sky or a single earth shattering moment of clarity, but instead, a string of little moments, thousands of baby step clarities along the way. Like a sharp piece of glass tumbled over by the waves, who with time becomes a smooth gem. And I know that all of the edges haven’ t been refined yet. Maybe they never will. But the once murky glass that was me and my world is abundantly clear now. Reflective and bright like crystal.
We spend our lives afraid of being alone with ourselves, craving any distraction from it at all. And when we are alone, we do the same. Phones. TVs. Internet. Anything to keep our brain entertained, looking out at everything else, because we fear what we may find if we unhook the leash and let our thoughts wander in. The unknown.
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