Follow the White Chacos
This blog post is coming to you from Gate number 5 at the Minneapolis international airport. Initially I was thinking about writing my first blog post from home as sort of a goodbye to a place I wouldn’t come back to until April and all the things I would miss. But I decided against it because not only do I hate goodbyes but I don’t think I could articulate everything that I was leaving behind into one post. So instead I am going to give you a Hello post, which in my mind is thriving with light and sun because holy heck I am on my own for the first time. I am alone, and right now I am not sure if the feeling within me is nerves, excitement, pure fear or a mix of all that have made a nice little settlement in the bottom of my stomach.
I have never done this before. I am experiencing some sort of metamorphosis in which it is time for me to take flight into a life filled with new people, new tastes, a completely new sound and hopefully a new self perspective on the world around me. I have so many unknowns ahead of me and while my head is spinning trying to make sense of everything I remember that my breath is structured beneath me for me to take control over. This summer I started going to yoga a couple times a week and one of the biggest things that I always took away from my mat was the whole idea of savasana. The time at the end of your practice were you can silence your mind and relieve it of any unnecessary tension that you have no control over. Many times it was challenging for me to let go of some thoughts or the stress that I carried with me into class. But now as I sit hear amidst a whirlwind of emotions I realize the importance of breath and the idea of the serenity prayer- “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference”. At this particular moment I can’t control what I am feeling. I can’t control the nerves or the fear. But I can control my breath and I can control my outlook on wear I am headed.
I am so incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to embark on this adventure and although I am terrified I am starting to feel a sense of strength in the thought of having no idea where I am going.
I gaze down at my white chacos strapped to my feet, my perfectly crisp white shoes that I cannot wait to get dirty. I can’t wait for the straps to fray and the white to become a light shade of brown. Maybe i’ll have to rinse them off a couple times but they are sturdy. These shoes are fierce, they don’t break down when faced with new terrain and they are not afraid to get a little trampled. Let’s do this thing, I tell myself, lets go to Ecuador.