Forward, Forward, Forward

Last week my yoga teacher started the session by asking the class to reflect on the past in the opening meditation. She said: I want you to think back 5 years; where were you, what were you doing, what were you dreaming of? And then reflect on what has changed in those 5 years.

I started thinking: 5 years ago, I was still living in Copenhagen, Denmark, working as a design lecturer. We lived in an apartment in the centre of the city, and our kids were going to school and kindergarten nearby.

I had written my first book and was dreaming of writing another one but was having a hard time locating enough time for the project. My husband and I were starting to talk about moving away from the city (or even away from Denmark). We had been through different scenarios, including a cottage-in-the-countryside-scenario, but were starting to dream about Bali (after having travelled there the year before for months with the kids and having visited an amazing bamboo school in the middle of the jungle). I guess 5 years ago we were actually just on the verge of making the decision about moving across the world and into the wild.

I remember the discussions we had, and the concerns as well: what about the grandparents, what about all our friends? What about our apartment and all of our things? What about our jobs and the kids’ school and kindergarten? What about our community? And more basic: what about income, insurance, safety?

Everything that now is our daily life seemed like such an unreachable dream and such a challenge. And yet, something made us move forward with the dream. What was that something? I wish I could remember. Was it our youngest son’s dissatisfaction with his kindergarten (that made every morning a battle)? Was it our longing for sunshine and outdoors living (that only grew bigger each year the Danish summer had ended, and we were faced with yet another long, dark winter indoors)? Was it our dream of having time to engage in our passion driven professional projects; and to see where that would take us — a dream that seemed impossible to realise in the fast-pace environment we were living in with enormous monthly expenses? Was it our desire to show our children the world, and have them grow up in an international environment? Or was it simply our longing for adventure that was the driving force?

I don’t remember.

But I do remember the December afternoon a little less than 5 years ago when my husband and I decided to go ahead and pursue our dream: I remember where we were (we were having lunch at one of our favourite cafés in our neighbourhood), I remember that we shook hands (to make it feel official, I guess), and I also do remember how it felt: exhilarating, amazing and scary, all at the same time.

I also remember the half year that following that December afternoon, until we were finally sitting on an airplane in the beginning of July — on our way to Bali with only 4 suitcases checked in. We sold our home, got rid of the majority of our belongings (furniture, bicycles, toys, books, kitchenware) and only stored a minimum of things that we simply couldn’t get rid of due to sentimental value (this ended up being around 20 moving boxes), got our kids enrolled in that bamboo school in the middle of the Balinese jungle that we had been dreaming of ever since we first visited it, quit our jobs, took our kids out of their beloved school and not so beloved kindergarten, hosted a multitude of goodbye parties (that involved lots or tears and lots of hugs), and were met with both approval and quite a bit of disapproval by our friends and family.

During that period, I had pneumonia (a nasty, lingering kind that made me feel weak for months), and we had a huge water damage in our bathroom that meant that we couldn’t use the shower for months and had to through our old Copenhagen courtyard and use the basement shower in the middle of winter (which meant walking through snow!).

It was a period during which the waters in our life were very, very turbulent, very wild and unstable, and yet we steered our ship through them, and it felt immensely empowering.

The simple exercise of thinking back 5 years and reliving some of the experiences and emotions that characterised that period of my life, made me realise something:

We are always focused on the future, and hardly ever on the past, well, not unless it is to grief things, experiences and people that we have lost or to make ourselves feel good about our growth or successful journey. But not in a simple acknowledging, appreciative way that involves embracing life being in flux. Not in a way that makes us grateful — of both past, present and future opportunities and of the ever-flowing river that life is: the river and that never ever stops moving, although sometimes slowly with clear calm waters, and sometime fast with rough waves and uncomfortable currents.

We mostly look back at our past in a way that involves grief and regrets: if only I had done this and that, if only I still lived there, if only had her/him in my life still, if only I still had small children, looked like that, could still love and laugh like that etc. etc. Or in ways that involve relief: thankfully I have moved on from there, have eliminated her/him from my life, have grown away from those habits, have earned more money since then, and so on.

Our life is not linear, not a straight line that can go up or down and is characterised by growth or decline, by regrets and reliefs. No. Our life is ever-evolving, always in flux — it is an iteration, a spiral process that develops in a circular manner. It is characterised by flourishing and withering, by rhythms that reoccur or echo past events and experiences, and by changes and alterations. Making space for the alterations is crucial; only by doing so can we create a durable, stable core that can comprise whatever we are blessed and challenged with.

…

Want to connect? https://www.instagram.com/the_immaterialist/

—

This post was previously published on medium.com.

***