Port Elizabeth, Shimla, Calcutta, Edinburgh, Lima, Adelaide, Beziers, Yorkshire Dales, Porto, Wales…just some of the places that friends are visiting presently or have been to recently. Just visualising the crisscrossing global traffic makes my head spin and marvel at how amazing our modern life is to be able to get to these places if we had the will and the means to do so.
This time last year, I was in MADras. Having a foot in two continents, my life can quite often feel as if I’m escaping from one reality to another. This is because visiting India also means slipping into an old life which can very easily feel all-consuming and real. A life built elsewhere can become a hazy memory when back in all too familiar surroundings.
Choosing to stay this summer at home in Bristol has actually made me think about what it means to not escape. So far, it has brought up some interesting results:
– That going away is a lot easier – spending on a trip is more pleasurable than spending on reorganising and refurbishing the home. I’m ready to dismiss the faint glimmer of a newly organised workspace being an all too promising mirage.
– De-cluttering as mentioned before is way too complicated – the weight of my accumulated life continues to lie around me in scattered heaps of tat, box files and innumerable colourful journals. I swerve madly between one urge to be purged – create a bonfire and give it an honourable cremation and on another, believing strongly that the idea for my next piece of writing may be there.
The second week of August has begun with thunderous downpours and a monsoon like rain – signalling perhaps that there is virtue in a ritual cleansing and replenishing of depleted resources. And then it may just be that fresh, fragrant channels are opened or that an escape is earned!