Four cities, two weeks.
In London, I was tugged by desire to reminisce every moment 20 year old me experienced when in London. 23 year old me has begun to know the art of slow living and the unparalleled joy of being “all here.” Three years is a long time, and the way I’ve grown in my ability to prevent nostalgia from robbing my present joy is evidence of grace. I will live now, I will live now, live, now.
In Oxford, I could barely articulate what it was like to stand on this street. To walk into the college I studied Human Rights at three summers ago. The stairs smelt the same, their creaks bringing me back to those weeks living in the most famous university in the world. Senses alive, it felt like a dream.
Being with my parents in Oxford and the Lakes District was a beautiful space of rest, disconnection and stillness. It’s easier to treasure moments when you live 8,000 miles from your parents and you only see them twice in 6 months. I love how madly in love with each other they are, how they make me laugh more than almost anyone else, and that they echo my adventure heart.
Then Ireland. Oh, Northern Ireland. There’s unparalleled peace there. Everything calls you to stop and rest a moment, to more deeply step into into the stunning ordinariness of being fully alive. I breathed in everything, and I will never be the same again.