I’ve been in Bali for three days now. I don’t think I could have chosen to recharge in a better place. I’m in a much better place to appreciate Bali compared to my first trip in 2008.
All I have done for the past three days is eat, swim, sleep, write and read. It took just one day for me to feel that elusive sense of joy, a joy that has eluded me for the past three months. It occurred to me that all I really needed was a lot of space. Space, not only in its physical form, but in every dimension it takes. I need that space to connect with myself, to the universe, to the core of what I love and who I am. It is easy to forget all that busyness we undertake in the name of work. I love my work, but how effective is that work if I’m barely alive?
We mistake a state of functioning as being alive. Being in a constant state of execution doesn’t do justice to life. Life, is also about being in awe, hope and inspiration. What does life mean when we can’t see the intricate magic that allows us to not only breathe, but also facilitate our capacity to create breathtaking forms of expression?
Compulsive obsession fueled by insecurity and the need of approval can so easily be mistaken as love. Love understands that sometimes distance is required to truly see the subject.
I am at my happiest when I feel like my mind is my best friend. Full of hope and love, instead of being in a constant state of anxiety and self-pity. That is why I love to be alone, with external interaction at my own choice and pace. At the quietest state of my mind, without needing to react to any external force, there is love.
I just need the space to be capable of listening to that voice.