Back in Copenhagen after a four day whirlwind visit to London, or as some might see it, a holiday from my ‘holiday’. Being someone who has taken a year off from her job to live in another country, it’s easy for me to understand how much this might seem to some like a lark. I’m a girl with time to do what I please and nothing but freedom to pursue. Four and a half months in, I can say first hand that, while this is a break from the ‘routine’, this isn’t a holiday. Call it an experiment, or a lifestyle change, but it isn’t a holiday. It is what it was meant to be – a series of challenges in search of what is new, what is old and what will always be the same.
I went back to London for a number of reasons, but predominantly because the upheaval of the last month or so had begun to blur my vision of what made me come here. I had been overwhelmed by a series of domestic circumstances which temporarily derailed my main intention. So instead of having the peace to reflect and meditate and write, I was spending a considerable chunk of my time and energy on logistics, which involved people management, moving and money, as well as copious amounts of anxiety enhanced by a fresh phase of acclimatising only after four months of my initial arrival. Imagine falling off the first rung of the ladder and managing to break your leg in doing so, meanwhile knowing how much effort you put into getting on that first rung. That’s close to how I felt.
Such affairs are practical and immediate. They must be dealt with before the rest can follow and my circumstance had universally been viewed simply as ‘bad luck’. As it was, I had lost my sense of 'home' and was potentially facing the loss of funds I had worked so hard to acquire in preparation for this adventure. In the bigger picture, of course, such things hold little consequence when I have so many things to be grateful for. But being a newbie with limited means with which to buffer myself, I felt the most vulnerable I had since arriving.
Now, it seems the air is slowly clearing. What a relief! In trying to deal with the situation at hand with dignity, I found there were times when I felt quite lost as to my sense of place and connection to the greater world beyond my small Danish bubble. I wanted to close a chapter that I had only just begun, but it was feeling as though that one chapter was my only one for being so unsettling and isolating to boot. Of course, it is not all there has been to Copenhagen life, but an unsettled home life hangs like a cloud over everything else and my anxious state meant even some of my closest people started to look at me differently, further adding to my sense of feeling adrift.
So when the world around me was starting to tip too far in one direction, I went back to a place where things were still in balance in order to reconnect with the rest of my life. I made appointments with friends with whom I stayed up late chatting and visited my old haunts. I saw many familiar faces and people who readily embraced the opportunity to connect after our time apart. I was remembered and recognised beyond just a person who had gone through a bad patch. If anything, I went to see those who know me as a survivor. It served to remind me of the greater world I navigate within and rejuvenated my sense of perspective, both on who I am and why I came here, for while I had a great time seeing my friends, I was also reminded of what made me move in the first place.
I have returned with a fresh mind and a fuller heart having seen again from the outside, the challenge I set for myself in coming here and the comforts I sacrificed in doing so. I also see that I am the only one who can fully gauge the value all of this is bringing to my life. That no matter what others might see or say about what it is that I do or how I do it, that I know that what I am gaining is applicable and sacred to me and me alone. Maya Angelou wrote: “without courage you can’t practise any other virtue consistently.” I hear that. I know what I am doing is something that is actually hard for me to do. That’s all I need to know.
This last period has also informed my perspective as to when to disconnect. There are many places I can call home, and yet I live away from one or another every day. I try to nurture all my connections in equal measure, for better or for worse. My efforts have not been without consequences, albeit, all my own. With my run of ‘bad luck’ almost behind me, I am reminded that there are times to connect and times to disconnect, be it physically, psychologically or emotionally. Such is the plight of the free-spirited. Sometimes this is easy, sometimes it is gut-wrenchingly difficult, and I am constantly learning that you cannot second-guess when each will apply. Sometimes, when you think it should be hard, it isn’t, and vice versa.
What we originally view as strong connections can in fact prove weak, while what we view as weak connections can surprise us by proving to be incredibly robust and resilient. I am beyond guessing which is which and just trust in what holds day-by-day. Some people will say time is the test, but I argue that time can also bring wear and tear. For me, on a windy day I shall walk the bridge which stands best on a windy day, knowing that same bridge may not be the best when it is pouring with rain. To know that, I just wait until it rains. Conversely, by now I know better than to always trust the one I have used on the sunny days, even if it means building a whole new bridge. At least I can say I know how to.
Random Girl
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