If I have learned anything at all from being transplanted from my home, the people I love, and the society I am familiar with for almost 5 months, it has been this:
Push outside of yourself. Real life is born on the edges of ourselves, and if we can die to our small desires, to shame, to the voices that say, “you are not good enough” or, “who do you think you are?”; if we can breathe in, if we can let those things fall to the ground around our feet, and if we can push hard out into the world around us, there will be something there.
There will be adventure, there will be connection, there will be time, there will be space.
There will even be people like you that are willing to talk.
The world is big, it is uncomfortable, it is grossly unfamiliar. But if you can push through that outer edge, crack through the shell that separates you from that which is not you, and push back, there will be life.
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