The past few months have been ones of adjustment and I have found myself sad at times, frustrated, unsure of what lies ahead. Somewhere along the road, I lost sight of what life is truly about. I had plans for my life, and life wasn't cooperating.
The fact is, life isn't about planning, nor is it about certainty or reaching certain milestones. Life is about living, now and in the moment because ultimately, the only certain thing about life is its uncertainty.
Today I read a few old e-mails from people who were once a part of my life, and looked through photos from my travels around the world, of old friends, random acquaintances. I remembered warm summer nights in Madrid, making new friends in Montreal, watching futbol in a piazza in Rome, and so much more. Remembering those moments, I felt a rush of nostalgia that was almost painful. A nostalgia not so much for the people I've met or the places I've been, but for that feeling of being alive that is so hard to feel in the mundane nature of every day.
Last summer, I spent a few weeks in Europe by myself. Boarding the plane, I felt a rush of anticipation - unsure of who I would meet or even where I would stay, the possibilities were as endless as the vast expanse of sky visible from my small window.
I need to learn to embrace that uncertainty in my everyday life with the same gusto as I do when I travel.