At 22, I know not very many things.

At 22, I know in my bones, to my core, that it is my duty to explore. If I haven’t made this reference already, Joseph Conrad’s Russian traveller* character has been somewhat of a guide to me since we were introduced in 2018 (See Great Artists Steal section). It is my duty to be on the move. To balance this with my newly acknowledged duty to take up space, to claim sovereignty, (thank you to all embodiment activists* of the moment and those previous, see Great Artists Steal below) is my existential crisis of the moment. I want to live in a van and I also want a perfect house on this exact street I’ve been borrowing as mine for almost 2 months. I want to have no plans and I also want a partner and a dog and……. kids….??????

I got a bus pass when I got to Auckland. I have never known public transport; I marvel at the miraculous coordination the bus routes and their daily execution require and how taken for granted such systems seem to be.

43 days into my stay in Auckland, it struck me that when I board the bus, I walk to the same seat each time: mid-bus, closest to the exit. I realized that I leave my feet out in the aisle, reaching for the door. I looked down to find that I hold my pass in my hand and I keep my backpack on, even when all my bus rides exceed 20 minutes in duration. I chuckled at the way I resist the urge to put my headphones on, lest I get too comfortable in my own world. I felt embarrassed that my feet create such an obstacle for other passengers and that I, rather uncharacteristically, have the audacity to remain in this problematic position while people with things to do and places to be bumble past me.

In strikingly similar fashion, at the café, whether alone or with company, I will sit with my coat on, my shoulders and hips anywhere but square to the table.

There seems to be no known significance, no logical pattern to this, as there may be for many other people. As far as I know, it is not about having a direct escape in the case of fire or having a plan in the case of bomb threat. It has been, until this point, a fully unconscious rejection of settling — an avoidant practice which I believe makes me an expert at one foot in, one foot out.

Yes, in my meaning-making way, I have translated this tendency of mine to face the exit find the exit sit close to the exit as my relentless opposition to staying in one place for too long. 

Obviously, if I exhale, I am stuck. And that is my worst nightmare.

I am a prepared person by nurture. I enjoy having a plan and I enjoy structure. But when I have too much structure, I feel unsettled. I know this is happening when I refuse to face my feet forward on the bus. And when the thought of opening my weekly planner makes my skin crawl. And when my screen time spikes only on the AirBnB app. And when my yoga instructor says something about releasing my tongue from the roof of my mouth or dropping my shoulders down away from my ears and I realize I have not danced yet today.

xx

Until You Know Better

Dance

Find a Seat in the Sunshine — if you, like me, are in the middle of what feels like a never-ending winter, get to the sun as often as you can

Walk on the funny side of the road and notice what you see differently

Great Artists Steal

Listen to Episode 206 of the “We Can Do Hard Things” Podcast with Glennon, Amanda, and Abby, featuring Dr. Hillary McBride — all about embodiment

Leon Bridges Radio on Spotify

Read* Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad — a masterpiece; about the colonization the Congo by Belgium and also just so much more; my favorite book

Explore the works of* Sonya Renee Taylor and Cole Arthur Riley and Adrienne Maree Brown