a state of perpetual flux

where one thing ends and another is about to begin, but you are not quite there yet, you are in the space between

Life always has a way of explicitly revealing the truth. The truth about the choices you make, the relationships you nurture, the work you do, and the paths you take. Every time you steer away from your subtle truth you enter a psychological liminal state — less tangible and more emotional — a space recognised as a shift between two ways of thinking, being or living.

Many moons ago, sitting on a different sofa, with a different view to the one I am on today I felt a deep dissatisfaction with the existing circumstances of my life. I had followed a path that seemed set out to me but led me farther and farther away from my truth.

It is no secret that I am nomadic by nature.

Over the past couple of years, I felt the aliveness of life slip away from me and was suffocated by that. In a natural rush of self-expression, I recorded a podcast episode titled ‘the crossroads of living an authentic life’ where I explored my dissatisfaction with the settled life I had chosen. In it, I share a crazy idea that came to me that morning from my subconscious after journaling the night before. It’s an invitation to open a discussion on what living an authentic life means for each of us as unique individuals.

The truth was, the life I was living was not the life that is meant for me.

After that moment, everything began to change.

As if I had been heard, a kismet chain of events occurred that moved my life path onto a new trajectory. Without effort or consequence, I was offered opportunities and choices that requested nothing more of me than to let go of control and respond with trust and readiness.

I wish I could say that I did so with absolute grace and dexterity. I did not. I had many human moments.

When my car was impounded by the Spanish police, I wept with anger, frustration and confusion. Once my decision to leave Mallorca was clear, crossing Europe from Spain to France and over to England with my remaining belongings and my cat was exhausting and at moments overwhelming. Since then we have stayed with a generous friend for 5 weeks in the midlands of the country, house-sat in the sweetest medieval village near Cambridge, and now are subletting a refurbished apartment in an old gin palace in central-north London. Each move brings with it its own challenges with mundane and minute particulars that feel demanding.

And I couldn’t be happier.

I feel alive again. Content. Thriving. Inspired.

I am in a perpetual state of flux where one thing ends and another is about to begin, but you are not quite there yet, you are in the space between.

Today, I am sitting on a brown leather sofa in the middle of the living room with double-high ceilings and tall windows overlooking a park where the only things in my view are tree branches, city skylines and clouds of grey and white.

I don’t know yet what will happen after this or where my cat and I will live next month. And I’m ok with that. This is where I belong.