A year ago, I fled. Things were not going well. Dissatisfied, scared, desperate, lonely, confused…I knew I had to go. Needed drastic change. So, I left New York to go to London. A place I felt drawn to, especially artistically. My beautiful friends all supported me, told me I was brave, but it's never been easy. I'm not going to pretend that putting myself out there, traveling, hasn't been terrifying. My relationship with the unknown is one that I am continually exploring and cultivating. But, regardless of the fear, those pangs of intuition… the voice deep inside my heart that whispers… "it is time to move"… is something I can't ignore. Just ask my dear friend Jess, (actually both of my dear friends named Jess) and they will tell you that 24 hours before my flight to London over a year ago, I was a wreck. Not unlike the first time I bought my solo ticket overseas for my first three months of travel alone. Crying and scared, second guessing my ability to handle the world and life decisions in the face of the abyss of the unknown... I recognized the feelings of fear as something that I am working on. I am practicing not giving it power, and instead sending it compassion and love... not letting the fear debilitate me as it had in the past. Because in the end, we must do what our hearts are yearning for. When something, someone, is calling my name… when I am able to let go, be honest and true to myself, it is most important for me to go there, to them, and follow through. There have been many times in my past when I didn't, and learned the lesson... that I don't want to live with regret.
London. Being in a brand-new city, not knowing anyone… was isolating. Falling down a slope I knew only too well, a slope that led to debilitating despair that I still didn't have the tools to deal with alone. I started reading avidly, so many books, going to performances, museums, shifting my mindset to where I felt happiness… as a student. Choosing my own 'curriculum' as a student of life. I knew that a turning point must be near, wanting only to be a sponge for all that was good, honest and true. It gave me much needed time to learn how to relate to myself again. Spending quality time with me. Walking, observing life, writing, sketching, visiting sights I'd read about and studied my entire life, finding a connection to the city on a very personal level. During this time in London, the discontent of my own inadequacy of my art form was ruling me. Stuck in this familiar state of mind that I so badly wanted to change... feeling like a failure. Then fracturing my elbow in a dance class forced me to stop dancing for half the time I was in the city. By the end of my time in London, drained and hungry... the next step? There was no other option, the ONLY thing I could do was to go on pilgrimage. It was what my heart was screaming for and that filled me with purpose. To strip away all societal responsibility, all expectations of myself about my trajectory of life, to have one task, to devote myself to one intention, and that was to continue walking forward. I knew it was the most important thing I could do in my life right at that moment.
Jess met me in London and we flew to France together. We started the journey that changed both of our lives immensely. It was humbling and comforting to be traveling alongside a friend. For the year before that, I had been traveling, backpacking, alone... and this was the first time I was embarking on a journey with a companion! A companion who I trust completely, and is a sister to me.
The Camino de Santiago… it has become popular in the past few years because of a movie that came out called "The Way". I had never heard of the movie. I had never heard about the camino until the previous summer. The summer I was in Vienna, one of our roommates, Emanuel, told me of his sister who had done a pilgrimage biking across Asia! I had never heard of a "modern-day" pilgrimage, and thought only major athletes could do long treks like that… I started picking his brain. He told me of pilgrimages in Russia, Italy, Israel, and Spain. He then began to describe the Camino de Santiago... How the medieval pilgrims would journey from their homes all across Europe to pay respects to the remains of Saint James in Santiago, and then journey a little farther to the Atlantic Ocean… Finisterre… the end of the earth. Usually, it was their first and only time seeing the ocean, and what was at that time in history, the end of everything that they knew to exist in this world. They would take a shell from the shore and bring it back to their families, a symbol of their journey. Even today, pilgrims tie a shell to their pack so that others will know their purpose. I knew that this was going to be a journey I'd take at some point in my life, but never could have dreamed that a year later, and a year ago today, we'd be in France getting our first stamp in our pilgrim credentials.
In honor of the journey that changed my life… happy one year camino anniversary!
(Photos I took on the road)
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