I packed my life into four bags.
And moved to Spain.
For a few months.
Who knows what comes next after that.
I am working remotely from here while Johnnie and I invite people to our Unhurried Design project.
Taking in the sights and sounds and culture from my apartment in Arenas de San Pedro.
Truly this is an unhurried place.
I am still waiting for my WiFi to get hooked up.
The technician cannot be bothered.
In the meantime, I’ll use my personal hotspot from my phone.
And spend more time offline.
The other day I bought a backpack and hiking boots.
Trekked up the side of a steep green mountain.
Sat upon a huge rock overlooking a river.
Contemplated while it flowed into a dark valley.
A few days later, I went for another hike.
Got lost in a forest on the way back. Couldn’t find the path I had taken as dusk fell.
Sometimes life can feel less like a rock, and more like rushing water, with its sudden turns and surging currents into the unknown.
Sometimes life can feel like a murky forest, where the paths around us run out.
What if when beset with such uncertainty, we lean in, instead?
Rather than despairing, or vilifying, or resorting to what’s familiar (the path of least resistance)?
Perhaps there’s some richness amidst what feels like darkness.
Lately I find myself drawn to a practice the Romantic poet John Keats referred to as ‘negative capability’ - where we no longer irritably reach after fact or reason.
Instead, learn to let go.
Swim with the current.
Dance with its unexpected turns.
And then, as we steep into forests that seem cloaked in darkness, slowly we find ourselves.
Being framed.
As a portrait of light.