Today I started packing my things (mainly clothes and books) and send them to France. Then when I came back “home” I still had a lot of items that I did not know what do with…..
I spoke with our students and some of them told me that they might be interested in some pants…. then I came back to my room to pickup a big bag in which I had several of them and start to give them away…… while watching “my” clothes going from hands to hands I was thinking “this one I bought in Paris 3 years ago, this dress I bought in Cambodia during our teacher training course, this red top I bought in Goa 4 years ago”….
When I came back to my room I was not sure if I was happy or empty.
I’ve done it so many times. When I sold my apartment in 2014 I sold (gave) everything with it. From the bed to the bed sheets, from the kettle to the cups of coffee, from the brand new TV that I never used to the DVDs, all towels for the shower, the vacuum cleaner, you name it. The new owner did not just buy an apartment, he bought a real furnished apartment with everything; I do remember there was still some salad in the fridge as well….
When I move back from Canada to France same thing, I completely empty my apartment, even organise an “open house” day where I watched people opening and checking everything, bargaining, buying and leaving with items that I bought during my 7 years in Montreal. I sold my car as well.
Each time I felt that a piece of me was leaving me, a piece of my past.
The very first transition happened in 1998 when I moved from Paris to Montreal. I was 24 years old at that time, slightly heartless and I did not care, it was my moment, had no clue about the winters, no clue about the people, did not know anyone in Montreal, had no job, just my “permanent resident” paper duly taped in my passeport and that was it.
Seven years later, the transition from Montreal to Paris was really hard to handle but I survived to it!
Nine years later the transition from Paris to India was unreal. I did not realise exactly what I was doing, I just knew I wanted to do it and I had to do it without any hesitation and without any regret.
Four years later the transition from Mysore to many places before reaching Montreal by next May 2018 is surreal because first of all I can not believe that I am doing it AGAIN!
Foolishly in my wild dreams I always thought that when I will be reaching my 40s I will be more stable.
Soon I will be celebrating my 44th birthday and outside of my Ashtanga Yoga practice there is not that much of stability in my life.
So yes I could write “be free, do whatever you want, look at me I am dancing while you people are getting married and are having kids, I am the one who is right living the life the way I do and want”…. but no… I won’t. I know a lot of people who are married, have kids, a house, mortgage, a steady job from 8.00 AM to 6.00 PM and you know what they are damned happy!
I am not going to celebrate all bobo chic hippies prising their lives and promoting that backpacking is the best way of living, because it is not for everyone.
I just want to meditate on this sentence of Albert Camus.
Because technically I have no clue where I am going and why I could not find a home like others do.
Don’t misunderstand me, I am not sad neither down.
I am happy to move forward, the floor is still shaky but I know I will be fine.