Growing up.
I’m scared to grow up. I’m scared to stop feeling joy as I stare at the sea. I’m scared to take life for granted and start living day by day. I’m scared to stop enjoying discovering new places and meeting new people. I’m scared because I have grown up already, and seeing so much pain in the world can make one numb at times. Or empathic and hopeful. There’s a juggling between both states.
Growing up is optional. Growing old is mandatory. We’re so attached to the idea of who we’re supposed to be, we forget the brain is plastic and we can choose to change every day.
By traveling with older people, I have realized you always have a choice. That choice can seem to vanish once we fall back into calendar blocks and start having a routine.
Having a plan is great, having a strategy is ideal. I don’t know a better way to ground oneself than packing a short amount of necessities, move to a remote location, share a room with 7 strangers and forget who we are for a couple of weeks.