Week 6-7: Choose Your Own Seeds & Let Them Bloom

Dear You,

It’s been more than a week since my last letter, and in that time, life has swept me up and carried me across oceans. I had to return home unexpectedly, a personal emergency that pulled me back to familiar streets. Yes, I’m fine. Sometimes life just taps you on the shoulder and says, Come back for a while.

Home was exactly as I had left it. The air still carried that cool, comforting scent, the streets echoing with the same hum of life, the skyline unchanged. The city looked and felt the same, yet… something had shifted. Maybe not the place. Maybe me.

I’ve always heard people say, Travel the world and it will change you. Now, I understand. It’s not that the world changes, it’s that you do. You come back with new eyes, and suddenly, even the most familiar things look different. I know it’s only been about a month. But, a lot can change in a month.

In those days at home, I had many realizations. The first, and perhaps the most profound, is that I love my family and friends more than I can say. And, quietly, I’ve begun to love myself just as much. I may not express it to them or myself as much, but the feeling is felt so deep within me. And it grows as I age. It’s a part of me. I’ve always known this, I guess we all do. We love everyone in our lives, but what made me profoundly feel this, is understanding that life is short. Life is unpredictable. We have to hold it tenderly, like something fragile. Everything is fleeting. Everything shifts. Nothing stays. We may feel endless, but the truth is, we are temporary.

Yes, I love my life back home. But it is still growing. Life is a garden, and every season demands new seeds. Although I love everyone around me so deeply, not everyone will share your vision or your pace, and that’s okay. At times, the people around you don’t understand why you planted a seed.

Sometimes, to grow your own garden, you have to walk away from it for a while. You have to see it from a distance to know what it needs. Leaving permitted me to be selfish, for once.

Colombia has been my teacher in ways I didn’t expect. Before, I kept circling my decision to come here, overthinking it, second-guessing it. But now, I know why I had to leave. Why I needed to step away. When I boarded the plane to Colombia, guilt sat heavy in my chest. Guilt for leaving my parents. My little dog. My friends. But life is a solitary journey, even when shared with others. It is your road to walk. Your map to draw.

You know that feeling we chase: the feeling of wanting someone, anyone, to understand us?

Yes, we have people who understand and love us. But I believe that because of our vastly different experiences, no one will ever truly understand you. Not your best friends, your partners, your parents, your siblings. Yes, they can come extremely close. But the things you’ve felt, the things you’ve seen and gone through, nobody will ever know the quiet battles you’ve fought.

But you do.

You are there to understand yourself. You know exactly every feeling you’ve felt and every experience you’ve had. You already have someone who understands you. It’s always been you.

So I’ve been studying myself. Learning what I like, what I will not accept, and what my boundaries feel like. Learning who I am when no one is watching. And asking, Do I like her?

I think I do. I think I’m starting to love her.

This in-between space I’m in: it could be restless and uncertain, but I’ve decided to make it sacred. To make it transformative. To turn it into a space of becoming. You create it. Your life is unwritten, you write every sentence, every page, every chapter.

Colombia is home now. But I’m realizing that home can be anywhere. It is not walls and streets. It is the love within you, the light you carry, the positivity you choose to give.

The way I breathe is different now. The way I think. The way I show up for myself. Life is delicate, and I am finally choosing not just to exist, but to live. Wear that expensive perfume, style your hair the way you saw in a magazine, dye your hair, wear a fancy dress to the grocery store, stomp in a puddle, dance on a random Tuesday in your kitchen. Do it for yourself.

Please, feel it. The Earth is alive around us. We are alive. Feel the rain on your skin. No one else can feel it for you. I’m begging you, live inside this feeling. Life is too short not to.

From,

Calgary