Moving on, moving around, a few days here and a week or so there. Packing and unpacking. Settling in to a new situation for long enough to feel settled before picking up sticks again and moving on.
In the flow of constant change there are inevitable casualties. Some days you wake up to no clean socks, others to the realisation that the book you want to read is halfway across town with the small collection of belongings unloaded temporarily from the car. But these sort of things are minor in comparison to the casualty of concentration, a necessity for writing.
The irony, though, is that life itself tends to be full of inspiration when everything’s in flux.
Many experiences from these past few weeks are fading or being conflated as my sense of time becomes warped. It’s just over a month since we left Burgos and spent a week travelling through France. Only four weeks since arriving back in the UK. Hardly any time at all, yet so much of it seems so far away. Even those things that happened only a couple of days ago.
But this stretched sense of time exists only in recollecting events. Individual days rush by, taking the detail with them, and I keep telling myself I must carve out time to capture those details. Even if only in bare-bone form. Some day further down the line I might thank myself for doing so.
The reality, thus far, has paled in comparison to the intention.
I could admonish myself for my failure as a writer. But aside from knowing it won’t do any good, I also realise greater wisdom lies in letting go of those things that are becoming fuzzy and to trust that whatever is worth recalling at a later stage will rise up with relative clarity.
In the meantime the most important thing I can do is focus on what’s in front of me and fully immerse myself in the present. By doing so experiences are likely to embed all the stronger within me and, as such, become a source of inspiration, whether I make use of them while they’re playing out or in aggregate after the fact.
Writing in flux is challenging. There’s no way around it. Unless, of course, I sit down with a notebook in front of me.
Mufidah Kassalias is a writer, photographer and slow traveller. A digital nomad, she’s also co-founder of Creative Thunder, helping creative individuals and small businesses to fire up their online presence and prowess. To get a free copy of the inspiring Creative Thunder Manifesto, click here.
I am WAY behind with favourite blogs Mufidah but I see you are back in the Uk are you staying?
I’m way behind too! It’s so much harder to keep up when I’m either chasing internet connections (France and Spain) or moving around (these past few weeks in the UK). We’re planning to stay for the summer and travel around running writing workshops as we go. We’ve done a few already and have some more in the works. I can’t remember where you live, but if it’s the kind of town that would be good for a writing workshop, do let me know! If so, just email at mk@mufidahkassalias.com — either way, it would be good to hear from you. :-)
I live near Cambridge Mufidah.
Ah, yes! Cambridge is one of those places we were considering, so perhaps we’ll see you in the not-too-distant future!
Ooo I would love that :)
I highly recommend a notebook, Mufidah.
Sounds like a summer of more wonderful adventures.
Yes, notebooks are so much more portable than laptops, plus there’s not the pull into other activities, such as correspondence, and so on.
Real sun worshipers these little flowers…& do keep up your daily diary Mufidah
Indeed :-). And, yes, I’ll do my best to keep up daily writings.
yes, the notebook. I use one a lot for photography, which is after all writing with light! :-)
I like that — writing with light! I imagine you have a very interesting collection of notebooks. :-)
Lovely and inspiring thoughts, Mufidah. :) I am sure you can keep up. Sincerity brings out the best.
Thank you, Nandini. :-)
For the constant traveler quick changes are part of it.
Enjoy!!!
Yes, this is very true, Helen!