The Way Appears

Narberth, Wales

At the start of this trip, I attached a Rumi quote to the wallpaper of my phone. “As you start to walk on the way, the way appears.” The post I’d read it in went on to explain, “clarity doesn’t come before action. It comes from action.”

What I have experienced during this time of uncertainty has been profound. I spent the first two months of this trip spiraling around a series of incapacitating questions. Who am I? What do I want out of life? Where do I want to live and what kind of career do I want to pursue? Though these questions have plagued me acutely since my brother’s death in 2020—which caused a significant paradigm shift in my life perspective and priorities—they are ones I’ve always grappled with in some form or another. I’ve never had any real sense of self.

Much of this trip has been an exploration of what lies beneath the myriad distractions that have kept me busy these past two decades and what I’m made of when I remove the complicated coping mechanisms that have kept me from feeling my own insecurities. Knowing I’d be in the same place for six weeks while in Wales, I decided to delve deep into those dark corners, pushing myself physically and emotionally.

I wrote my last essay across a week-long fast. It’s not something I’d casually recommend, but it is something I’ve always wanted to do. Many spiritual traditions utilize fasting as a means of reflection and deepening connection with the divine. I wanted to experience true deprivation, in part because so many people around the world experience it on a daily basis, and in part to remove that last crutch behind which I could hide. I know that might sound a little scary since I mentioned anorexia in my last essay, but that is not currently a concern. I’ve had very little anxiety in this space.

Stripping away so many outside influences and internal comforts has been remarkably revealing. I have long been starving... not physically, but emotionally. If you know me personally, you know I love to be around people... love gathering them, love to be surrounded by bodies and spirits and voices and as much human activity as I can purloin. I have an insatiable appetite for connection.

In reflection, that likely stems from the fact that I haven’t held any sort of concrete love for myself, nor have I possessed any real knowledge of who I am. I have known myself best through the ways I am known to others. Being lonely has meant I’ve had to get to know myself through my own eyes. This was an outcome I’d anticipated. What I hadn’t counted on was the immense amount of love that would grow from this space of solitude. Love... for me. In my 43 years of existence, it’s not something I’ve ever really possessed.

I have gained so much clarity these past four weeks. Up until now, my life has been lived in reaction to my circumstances. For the first time ever, I finally know what kind of life I want to build, and I’m in a position to actually do it. I’ve begun applying for jobs in earnest, and I feel immensely excited about the opportunities I’m pursuing. This has been the greatest indication that I’m on the right path. You know you’re doing something right when you actually look forward to composing a cover letter.

This has also been a practice of patience. As the holidays approach, I’m starting to feel the itch to have my life settled, to know where I’m going to live, to return to a steady income, and to begin building out my future. But I also recognize I’m still not done with the work I set out to do. This is a process, and one that doesn’t happen overnight.

I feel an immense amount of gratitude that I’ve been able to take this trip. And for the absolutely incredible support that all of you have offered along the way. This felt like a selfish and reckless thing to do. But I now believe it’s the most responsible and loving decision I’ve ever made. I am laying the foundation on which to build the rest of my life. And I’m falling in love.... with myself. (Importantly, not with any of the weird dudes who have presented themselves along this trip).

Thank you for sending your love across the distance. I have felt and received it. I send it back.

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