How Life Looks Like On The Other Side Of The Greatest Adventure Of My Life

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How Life Looks Like On The Other Side Of The Greatest Adventure Of My Life

I get it now. Now I understand solo travellers. Solo women travellers, and otherwise. The magic of what I went through in the last two weeks is unrivalled. And I am struggling. To be honest. I am struggling, I am having a major comedown.

I somehow made it through my first day at home. Ironically I am back on the road tomorrow going up to London for a couple of nights. I am also starting an epic new dance workshop tomorrow spread across six months. So it’s hardly really a comedown is it. But it feels this way. Getting back to ordinary life. Back to cooking (although to be fair I cooked a fair bit while I was away). Getting back to working. How could anything ever really feel exciting again? But then again how could anything not feel exciting? I will never forget how it felt to arrive at a magical youth hostel in the middle of nowhere with wooden interiors. Never forget how it felt to dance with the Cumbrian Earth. Never forget the peace and quiet of the river Derwent outside my window. It’s good to be back home right? I am back to my regular dance practice. Back to my little town and my pylons. What could not be exciting?

I will remember the people I met in the youth hostel. The principal engineer who taught me how to solve cryptic crosswords. The two boys I played jenga with. The men who told me about Accrington. It’s good to be back in my own double bed. I guess I can’t really distill the beauty or the magic of what I just went through down to anything

The way it feels to travel so far alone. The way it felt to go to my favourite park in Manchester and finally to find healing at last. The way it felt to get the bus across the Lake District and to see how beautiful it all was

In the end it all just distills down to the love and to the beauty of God - and to the magic and the mystery and the wonder
A photo of a deer
Deer in Oxford 


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