When I went to the States for my two week holiday (plus visiting my honeybunny Rain), I hadn’t been very good to myself for a fairly long time. In most part it was inevitable, because I had to fill in for people on holiday at work. It meant working non-stop for a month, pretty much. Not kosher. So anyway, the state in which I went on holiday was borderline critical. Looking back at it I can say I had no idea I can work so much, do so much. Probing one’s limits sounds like a good thing, no? Probably not when it comes at the expense of health and wellbeing. Both physical and mental. I guess loving my work comes in handy here. Nevertheless, I don’t think I will ever do this again. The two weeks I had off did not suffice for the restart I actually needed after the ridiculous workathron. But it got some things straight.
I was asked quite a few times why I’m travelling alone. I hadn’t really thought of it – I mean I was visiting a friend. But I did realise travelling alone is superb. It sounds selfish, but it’s amazing when you’ve only got yourself to decide with, you can shamelessly waste time staring into the void of the ocean and spend hours in a bookstore. Lone travellers also seem to attract other lone travellers? I stumbled upon this group of Aussie kids (or more precisely one of them stumbled upon me and I took the bait), who were a perfect company for getting into some trouble on Venice Beach.
Travelling alone also leaves you the privilege of silence, if desired. And that, my dears, is precious. I had no idea I’d missed shutting the fuck up that much. Without noticing I started processing stuff in the farther corners of my mind, one or even a few at a time, dissecting them, sorting them out. Discarding. Reopening. One of the issues that I took upon myself was the issue of working as much as I do. I have heard my friends say sometimes jokingly, sometimes dead serious that I’m crazy for doing that.
Yes, heart arrhythmia is something I never want to go near again. But on the other hand, after getting my daily existence under control with a little help from some tricks from the East, I realised that no, it’s not crazy, really. It’s where I am right now and where I need to be. I have no one to live for, and I’m saying this in the nicest way possible. It’s a good thing. It’s the time to make something of myself. Right now this feels right. Of course it’s not permanent and if life decides to make adjustments, I’ll change my ways. But right now this is my flow. I am happy to sail, run and fly next to someone who’s crazy enough to want to sail, run and fly with me, but without being whole myself I don’t think I would make a very good partner in crime. Only two wholes can make one complete whole. Life is a funky maths. Not sure how far along in the equation I am at the moment.
Or then it’s the very Estonian superstition in me which makes me convinced that everything I wish for openly will go the complete opposite way. Secretly cynical and bitter, secretly trying to protect myself. You know, the whole “best things come who you’re not looking for them” etc clichés. So, the only thing I am setting my mind to, is myself. Looking for wholeness. So I can be better to others.
So anyhow, what I discovered after my California me-time, was that I have this strange feeling that something’s up. I have no idea what it is, whether it’s good or not, but something is happening. The sense of the impending doom or bliss. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’m feeling rather up for it. I’ve found this new steady and open calmness. It comes with silly little grinning at silly little things around me, the feeling that there’s always another way and on the grand scale of things, and that most daily screw-ups are not worth the frowns. And this state is one that is reached in solitude.
Also. Bins sometimes say the smartest shit (and random scribbles and notes in the street).