Life is a paradoxical cycle of love and grief we have to invariably hold in both our hands.
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My body’s intense aversion to alarms wakes me at 4.57 am, 3 minutes before it’s about to go off. I stretch out my limbs in bed as my cat has taught me, open my eyes, and exclaim “It’s a day!” into the darkness. A secret daily prayer that translates to “Thank you life for another beautiful day”. I hear Danger tip-toe towards me as I dangle my legs off the side and turn on the lights to shower and get ready for my flight.
We turn the corner to see a man hovering against an old limestone wall and exclaim “Oh shit!” as he sees us while defecating a huge dark brown sundae serve onto the floor. We stumble away giggling and horrified. “Welcome to Ibiza!” Belinda says.
The island has a permanent sense of debauchery and hedonism emanating from it since the 13th century when the Moors were ousted and it was besieged by pirates, who came mainly from North Africa. I wonder if some places, much like some people, have a karmic contract to play out for the individuals it attracts to it.
In the evening we walk to the top of the castle walls and through its underground tunnels past iron prisons trying to think of pirate names. I want something fierce and frightening yet also feminine but find myself lost for good ideas. ‘Medusa Great Heart’ ‘Circe Silver Bullet’ and ‘Comptessa del las Corsarios’ are my best attempts.
There’s something so precious about spending time with someone whom you have known for 10+ years. Someone you don’t have to explain your history to, soften the more challenging seasons of life for, or compromise your authenticity around. An easy intimacy and familiarity bring a fuzzy warmth to our friendship.
There is something kismet to the encounters I have with the people I call “my people”. Humans that have walked a life path similar enough to the zig-zagging bohemian one I’ve led, that we understand each other. It often gives me pause when people write in and ask ‘how to meet and make friends’ and ‘how to find your soul sisters’.
In an attempt to answer this delicate question I once wrote an article titled 4 tips on how to find your people when you move to a new place and while those tips are pragmatic and true there’s more to it.
The more I think about it the more convinced I am that the answer is a Venn diagram. The intersection of openness + vulnerability + something deeper, like a soul recognition = kismet connection.
Openness and vulnerability are soft skills that can be acquired. That ‘something deeper’ is divinely ordained chance. The first two require peeling away at the layers of armour and conditioning that block you from receiving and connecting with your heart. The rest is kismet.
We wake up just before sunrise on my last day to bathe in the soft candy floss hues and see Ibiza in her best light, sharing stories of triumphs and troubles, laughter and tears from the recent past, acknowledging, witnessing and affirming each other on our journeys through life.
As I wait to catch my flight I think about the fact that at this very moment, someone is giving birth, someone is making love, someone is dying, someone has just had their heart broken, someone is falling in love, someone is choosing to change and someone else is making that same mistake again. A paradoxical cycle of love and grief we have to invariably hold in both our hands for the entirety of our lives.
Enjoy today’s journaling practise: