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A year ago I set off on a journey - it was to be my year out, my round-the-world trip, "Katy's tour du Monde", as my friend and teacher, Laurie, called it (inspired the Grand Depart for the 2014 Tour de France taking place in Yorkshire at the time). Although I felt a strange and forceful compulsion to leave everything I knew behind and embark on this great adventure, I didn't really know what to expect from it. But I always hoped I would learn lots of things - about myself, about the world and all the different people who populate it. I was sure that travelling would bring me lessons I needed - whatever they may have been, and for whatever reason.
So did it bring me those lessons? Did I indeed choose The Wright Path?
I have to say yes. Even setting off in the first place was a lesson, as lesson that what often seems impossible is, in fact, entirely possible. Who'd have thought I would be jetting off around the world at the age of 34, making radio programmes with kids in South Africa, swimming in waters inhabited by hungry hippos, and watching the sun go down while drifting along the Zambezi river? Certainly not me, despite having a deep and long-held desire to live a life less ordinary. But I did. And in many ways, I still am - only now, I'm doing it with the knowledge of a few other truths, too...
Age really ain't nuthin but a number - It may surprise some people to hear me say that, but I spent two whole months in the company of people who were at least ten years younger than me while I was in South Africa, and some of those people have become some of my best friends. The same can be said for the older people I've met, too - they've just had more time to become beautiful, adventurous, inspiring people! What matters is whether or not you feel good in each other's company, nothing else.
You're never alone - I've said it before and I'll say it again, there is no such thing as loneliness for the traveller, unless that is what you seek. And even there, in the stillness of solitude, there's a sense of being part of something bigger than yourself (My name is Katy and I am a yoga bore - apologies)
Never trust the water in Asia - see previous blog for details!
...but keep your faith in people - in a foreign land, surrounded by people talking an alien language, living by customs you're not accustomed to, it's easy to feel fearful at times. Occasionally, rightly so - I still shudder at the memory of the 'yoga teacher' I encountered in Sri Lanka, who told me I had a malady in the lower left side of my abdomen (before I knew about my cyst, weirdly) and suggested going back to his place to drink a herbal remedy that would sort me right out. And as a tourist, you can quickly grow tired of the 'special prices' you're given for pretty much everything, feeling as though you're constantly being taken for an idiot. But on the whole, people ARE good, and while a little bit of caution is healthy (and allows you to see the true intentions of rogue yogis!), too much can get in the way of so many wonderful encounters.
People with less, give more - a long time ago, a particular sentence in a Bob Dylan tune was brought to my attention, but it wasn't until meeting people who really do have less (in a material sense), that I gained a new understanding of the lyrics, "Strange how people who suffer together have stronger connections than those who are most content". To be invited to share a meal with a family that struggles to make enough food to feed themselves, and then to be told that I must help myself before they do, is just one example of the kind of hospitality and generosity I have encountered over the last 12 months.
Always remain flexible - you wouldn't think this needed pointing out to a yoga practitioner (!), or someone who has drifted into some of their biggest decisions, but I do have a tendency to make meticulous plans for the minutiae of life. And the last lesson wouldn't have come had the family been like me, or my former self, always keen to plan meals and unable (or maybe just unwilling) to adapt if an unexpected visitor arrived. But, of course, there's always enough to go around and the convivial atmosphere of a table surrounded by many is worth SO much more than a well organised fridge.
Say yes - to the girl who wants to stay at the local pub with you, rather than waste time and money at a crap club in town with everyone else (and who will become one of your best friends in the world), to taking surf lessons in shark-infested waters, to yourself when you wonder if you really can drive a car around South Africa alone, to the new friends who say 'See you in Sri Lanka?', to the kind souls who offer you their leftover mosquito spray at the end of their trip, to the tuktuk driver who invites you to his house to drink tea and meet his family.
Say no - to anyone selling elephant print trousers, to that wholesome-looking banana smoothie (it's concealing a whole tin of condensed milk!!), to the surfboard with a really long leash (that might later get tangled around your neck under water - scary!), to 'natural' mosquito repellent (I wish it worked, but there's only one thing that really keeps the b*****s away and that's downright dirty deet), to the room with no fan, to the repulsive American boy who thinks yoga and polyamorous relationships go hand-in-hand...
Remember who you are (and who you are not) - when you're living an island life, it's very easy to stop wearing shoes and start wearing strange fabrics stitched together to look almost like clothes, and this can be rather nice, liberating even. But unless you truly embody the hippy spirit, you have to beware of becoming the 'professional hippy'- the kind that looks the part, until real life gives them a slap on the back of the head (which is possible if you don't have 20 years-worth of matted hair covering it). If there's one place in the world where you can be yourself, it's, well, the world! So have fun, try new things, wear ridiculous clothes, but remember, if you can't play the guitar, you don't need to drag one around the planet with you. Just your yoga mat and your Clarins facewash.
There's always room for progress when it comes to yoga - of course there is; enlightenment doesn't come without effort (or, dare I say it, at all!). But that's not what I mean here. I'm talking about postures - the ones you see on Instagram, or at classes in London. I thought I'd reached a plateau, that I had hit my physical peak, but with the right instruction and a lot more dedication on my part, I've broken through the ashtanga primary series and now enjoy twisting the mornings away in pashasana! Hurray!
And, of course, always wear sun screen ;)
I've undoubtedly missed lots off the list, but even so, the experiences I've had and the lessons I've learnt are the only proof needed to confirm that I did take the right path - that it was right to satisfy the longing I felt to explore and learn about the world. Apart from a rather chunky sum of money, I have lost nothing; I have only made gains. Because that longing was my heart, my instincts, telling me what I needed to do. I'm just glad I finally found the courage to listen - it's easy to let the noise and the haste of day-to-day life obscure the truth. Even during the quieter moments, when my heart was screaming at my head, I managed to ignore what was being said. But the truth will always find its way out, sooner or later. And that has been my most important lesson of all: keep listening to your heart, and you will always stay on The Wright Path.
- comments
Rachel Wow that is inspiring! x