A good life

Tonight is my last night in the Dale, and I came home to pack, slipping steadily into the bad mood which has threatened all day. Taped boxes. Threw clothes into a heap for charity. Moodily stared at the growing pile of “unsorted” goods, swore yet again that I would live a minimalist life and wondered, not for the first time, why I was doing this. Reached the absolute bottom of the box of handbags at the back of my wardrobe, and pulled out a handbag I haven’t seen in two and a half years and inside was a copy of The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho.

Sometimes I’m convinced God looks at the people on earth, scowling and stomping around, and laughs – laughs, and sends them a message so clear there is absolutely no mistaking it.

How long had that book been buried there, along with my dreams of a life overseas?

There’s no question that I’ve had a good life here – that these four walls have seen joy and heartbreak, heard the tears and laughter, and witnessed the mad, relentless pacing, sleepless nights and lazy afternoons. My little sanctuary from the stresses of the world. I love it dearly and am so sad to be leaving it behind.

So why disrupt a comfortable life, a good life, an easy life?

Because I want more. I want more than just comfortable, more than perfectly fine. I could live a hundred years continuing the way I have, with a steady job and friends and dance – but I want to seek and reach for what I was put on this earth to do. And to do that, I firstly need to understand what that is.

It’s hard to remember sometimes that loneliness and discomfort is the price we have to pay for stepping out into a brave new world, that bewilderment and loss is ultimately what allows us to open our eyes and really see. Clarity, understanding, growth – they all have a cost. But as terrible as the cost may seem sometimes, it’s not nearly as high as the cost of spending your days being afraid, of allowing bitterness to eat away at your soul, and of living a life in half measures.

It would be easy to stay, to exist in the world I have become so familiar with, but oh, I don’t want to exist. I want to live.