Moments of Existing

It's been a while since I’ve last written in this space - too long, to be frank. But I’ll admit that time has slipped away from me a bit with other things going on. Other things such as traveling and new experiences, so I can’t really complain. Life is good. 

One big trip that I took since my last post was two-city stop: London, UK and Reykjavik, Iceland. London has long been a city that I’ve wanted to visit, so I had a lot of excitement for reaching that goal. It’s an incredible city and I can see why it’s so popular - I loved it! Reykjavik, on the other hand, was not a city I had on my list. Iceland as a whole is a country that I had placed in my “later in life” category. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to go back again in the future, but when someone presents the chance to go there now, you don’t decline!

Iconic red telephone booth background in London

Both cities were incredible, but Iceland left me with something different. While London had its charm as simply being one of the most popular cities in the world, Reykjavik held more of a spiritual connection for me. It was breathtakingly beautiful. There was snow and ice everywhere, but if anything, the snow created a sense of silence that provided peace. And the cold we experienced wasn’t unbearable, it actually nipped at us in a friendly way, whispering a reminder that we were alive. I know, I know, that sounds really dramatic. But seriously, I felt something on that trip that put things into perspective.

Me in front of a waterfall in Iceland

This trip was the first big one I had following my Christmas vacation in Dublin, Ireland. I think within the time between these two experiences, I was focusing on other areas of my life outside of travel. This is understandable and only normal. But what I’m trying to say is that I think I fell into a routine where my life in Santander wasn’t really in that honeymoon phase anymore, but I also wasn’t fully involved in the way a local would be. It was an interesting in-between. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I’ve grown into a routine here that is grounding, but I also think a routine can make it harder to live life randomly and unplanned. At least that’s the case for me. And while I do enjoy a solid routine, I also think unplanned happiness is good for the soul.

All this is to say, that before my trip to London and Reykjavik, I think I was beginning to enter a point of this experience where I wasn’t taking enough time each day to recognize that I was living. Not just alive, but living. We each have so many beautiful things in our lives - moments, people, feelings, sights, etc. And it can be so easy to get accustomed to them and then dismiss them for what they actually are. I remember when I first came to Santander, I was blown away by the ocean and the mountains that rise up from it, from across the city. It’s a gorgeous view. And while I never stopped appreciating it, I definitely began looking at it with less of that initial fascination. I became accustomed to it, and it consequently became less intriguing. Why do humans do that?

Another shot of the waterfall!

Being in Iceland was like a wake-up call. We took a day tour out of the city to explore waterfalls, geysers and a national park. All of which were incredible. The nature reminded me a lot of Alaska, a place I used to call home and still feel a connection to. I think that similarity and simply being in nature made me stop and take it all in. It’s one thing to be there and see it, but another to sit and admire it. That goes for anywhere, and for anything. I wanted to sit in that peaceful quiet and watch the snow as it glittered in the sunrise. To stare at the geyser, waiting for it to burst, and jumping when it finally did because the noise scared me. I wanted to do all of those things, just as I want to sit near the ocean in Santander and admire it. Being in that quiet made me realize what I had been taking for granted.

On one of the first days I was in Santander, I went and sat near the ocean. I can remember the exact spot I went to, and I pass by it often, thinking about this memory each time. I recall feeling many emotions, but I also remember knowing that only nature could calm me enough to work through my thoughts. I think it took me all of two minutes after sitting down and watching the water, for me to begin crying. I honestly can’t even tell you about what. I think so many things had been filling inside of me, but I didn’t feel safe enough to let it out until I was face to face with the water. I cried for at least half an hour. It was a little comical because I felt really seen by the nature in front of me, but also really invisible to the locals walking past or sitting near me with their coffees. I guess when you think about it though, that can also be kind of beautiful: the fact that even though I was obviously not at my best, the world continued, and I was going to be okay. 

A solo coffee date with myself and my current book

I thought of this memory because in both that experience and while I was in Iceland, I felt so reassured by the fact that life is beautiful. Life is more than the daily tasks we complete. It’s more than the certain milestones we think we’re supposed to meet. And it’s definitely more than how we compare where we’re at to what others are doing, which is one of the biggest struggles I’ve been experiencing lately. I think that most people in their twenties struggle with the thief that is comparison (or at least I hope I’m not the only one). For me, the real danger with comparison lies with social media. It’s a lot easier to be harsh on yourself when you see others posting all the amazing things they’re doing. Don’t get me wrong, I only post the exciting parts of my life as well. But I do think that platforms like that, no matter how hard one tries, will always instill a sense of comparison.

This isn’t an anti-social media blog, not at all, but I have been thinking a lot about the influence it has on my life and where I’m at emotionally. Lately, I have found myself feeling like I’m missing out on things. Like everyone is out doing something and I’m missing out on it, but I don’t even know what “it” is. Do any of us? The truth of the matter is that I need to know what my “it” is. In other words, what do I want to do? What makes me happy? This is easy to tell myself most of the time, but there are other moments where it’s harder, and usually, those moments are linked to social media. It’s really incredible to see what others are up to, and to share with loved ones about what I’m doing. But it’s also easy to fall down the rabbit hole of “why am I also not doing that?”

Ella and I singing Dance Queen at Karaoke this last weekend

In short, I can see myself dealing with these emotions and trying to work through them in a way where I prioritize my own wants and needs. And it’s hard. But what I do know, is that the moments I’ve had near the water and in Iceland are the ones I’ve felt most at ease with where I’m at. In those instances, I felt the most secure and care-free. I wasn’t worried about what I’m doing when I get back to the states. Wasn’t stressed about doing everything here that I want to do. Wasn’t nervous that others were having a better experience than me at that moment. I was just existing, happily.

As a conclusion, I guess I could say that nature is something that should be prioritized in everyone’s life. I think it should be. I also want to say that I think everyone should take time each day to recognize that they are doing enough, and that it’s a gift to be alive. That where each of us are at is enough. That what others are doing can only take away from your own life if you compare. And for myself, I want to say that I’m doing a fantastic job, struggles and successes and all. Not perfect, as none of us can be, but I’m doing well, and I’m proud of where I’m at.