The story I am about to tell begins with one’s worst fears coming to fruition. The nightmares you think are sealed into the realms of the dreaming world when abruptly leak into the waking moments can leave you tensed, torn and terrified. Summer of 2021, when the world was trying to recover from the tragedy of the pandemic, the Universe was getting ready to jolt me out of my comfort zone. My mortal fears have always been made of the inability to choose and control the events in my life! I am a person who is dreadfully resistant to the idea of change. And I mean any change. A new couch that I thought would go well with the décor when actually placed in the living room can make me ruefully question my life decisions.
The change that was staring me in the eye this time was colossal! Circumstances were leading to the inevitable reality of giving up my London apartment, one that I pieced together bit by bit. One that was my constant and one I hoped to keep even when everything else would change. But this was not to be. And just like that, my home became Flat 8!
The following months after I packed away my home was challenging, one that was filled with grieving, anger and, at times lack of spiritual connection that I had never felt before. Everything seemed like a test that would eventually lead to another massive failure. How does one explain grieving, especially if it’s not a dear one that you are mourning but a way of life and space that was sacred? With a bruised ego and a broken heart, I decided to move away from the UK. Perhaps new meanings of home or hope lay elsewhere. The process of healing, like tragedies, has a way of finding you without warning. Edmonton, Alberta, was like a breath of fresh air.
It’s been a few months in my new surroundings. I am not settled, far from it. I am unsure where I might land next, who or what I will call home, and what twisted tales of love and longing await me. But I do know that my journey so far has taught me to find beauty and hope in uncertainty. (Find more on my Instagram Page! https://www.instagram.com/p/ChlRfQ1JF-08dCZxTHvZC7HFj4JFSoPdaj1gIw0/?igshid=MDJmNzVkMjY%3D and https://www.instagram.com/reel/ChlVs5rpWug/?igshid=MDJmNzVkMjY%3D
Someone like me, who rigidly prefers to stay on track and cannot fathom the idea of a detour while travelling to Canada via Paris, decided to make the most of a six-hour layover. I still have to pinch myself over it!
I knew something had to shift inside of me to breathe again. So, there I was, throwing caution to the wind, standing next to the Eiffel Tower, gleefully reminding myself that the choices of the living must remain in living and preferably in the present.
There could be myriad ways my story could have ended. One that began with displacement could have ended in me pirouetting around my fractured heart, engulfed in self-pity. Instead, my story ends with hope. No matter where I land, I must never give up on Hope because Hope is the thing with feathers bound to carry you to beauty and beyond!
References: Emily Dickinson, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42889/hope-is-the-thing-with-feathers-314
Nâzim Hikmet, https://poets.org/poem/living
EXSM 3989 - Digital Storytelling Class Blog 