here’s something else i’m thinking about. for the past year and a half, i’ve been working as a teacher and i have never stopped questioning if it’s for me. it chips away at my soul, i have no time left for the core of myself, no energy, no motivation, sometimes even no hope. it’s a job of extremes and within that, i’ve yet to find balance. i work evenings and weekends, i struggle to switch off and i often walk away feeling like a failure — there are always children being left behind, always things i could have done better and always lessons to be learned. and i am completely and utterly married to routines. i’m afraid of stepping outside, crossing over and embracing spontaneity. it has taken over my life ! on the other side, it’s the first time i have a stable career path in sight, the potential of financial stability and, on paper, there’s so much that’s right about it ! the open doors, the time-off, the chance to get a job anywhere, the nature of the work — it’s doing something i am passionate about. but i have never stopped questioning if it’s for me, not once. and i feel so burnt out by it already, so conflicted, so far away from myself. is it worth it? what would i do instead? have i really given it enough time? should i try doing it elsewhere? what’s true is that i rarely come home feeling like i’ve had a great day, i rarely talk positivity about it in social situations and i rarely go through long bouts of thinking i can do this for the long-run. i change my mind all the time !!! but what to do with this information? knowing that something so desperately needs to change but not quite feeling ready to take the plunge…

on a train. blankets of green, lone houses in fields, trees starting to burst, brushes of blue across the sky, country lanes, rickety gates bordered by hedgerows, more fields of yellow and pink and brown, everything blurring into one as we speed past. sometimes i’m so struck by the beauty of the countryside, it feels like everything i’ve ever wanted. the little dream i keep potted away, like a seed waiting to find its soil. this dream reminds me of you, i can see it, picture it, almost taste it. i really could have imagined that life with you. but as we move forward and as i keep moving forward, i remind myself that i can have it too, even if it’s not how i imagine it now (it’s never how we imagine it). and i tell myself to be present, to really be in this moment. i am here, i am seeing this beauty with my eyes, its mine and its real and its enough, for now. there’s this tendency to remain at the periphery of a situation, to not quite cross over because of the nature of impermanence. why see these fields as mine when they pass me by so? why let my heart be warmed by the countryside when i live in the city? why indulge in this dream when i’m on my own and have no way of making it happen? but i am here, looking out the window and allowing myself to be moved. and thats enough.

ok i am sending signals out to the universe that ~ i am open ~ and doing so in the form of rituals because why not label intentional acts as so ! number 1 was throwing away J’s toothbrush after 4 months and 3 days. 2 was re-downloading a dating app (i will probably delete it soon). 3 was going out tonight and allowing myself to yap, stay out late and talk to strangers. i am by no means ready to jump into something new but i do want intimacy and excitement and lust — i want a crush ! i want to know that i’m capable of desiring someone … so here we are

i had a nice day yesterday despite knowing it was J's leaving drinks, despite the constant rain, despite my loneliness. i picked up a library book, bought a pair of earrings that look like orchids and swam 41 lengths. as rain pattered against the roof of the attic, a sleepy afternoon haze settling over me, i decided to go to the cinema. another night at the movies. another night of being saved by the big-screen, by art, by witnessing what someone else has to say about the world and being alive, by connecting with stories so far away (yet close) from mine. i was a little early so after choosing a seat, i settled down with my library book and observed the room fill-up. i was surrounded by couples. the one in front of me who brought snacks which made my mouth water, the one behind who sat mostly in silence. they were early too and anytime they spoke it was in the thinnest whispers, almost as if they were respecting the silence of the space. at that point it was just the solitary movie-goers and them. later, a couple sat next to me and they sparked a yearning in my own heart. they were older, much older. the woman had a glass of wine, the man a pint of something. i could smell the wine and he asked her if she liked it and she said yes. "house wine is what they called it," he said "merlot mixed with something else". that made me smile. i liked the sound of their voices, i liked listening in to snippets of their conversation. as always, i started projecting my own stories onto them and imagined they've been together for many years. perhaps even longer than my own lifetime. there's something about seeing couples like this that really does something to me. knowing someone for that long, choosing to share a life together, habits and routines so intertwined- what do you talk about when every day is spent together? towards the end of the film, the woman reached up to wipe tears from her face and i wondered if she noticed me wiping mine. it sounded like someone was really sobbing. really really sobbing but i never saw who it was and part of me didn't want to either. films often release something out of us and that's the beauty of it. to feel like that is so beautiful. i was moved once again, i cycled home as if i was seeing things for the first time and it felt as though i was exactly where i'm supposed to be.