I just re-read some of my postings over the last two months. Can it really be just 8 weeks since I set out on this journey of a lifetime? So many of you have shared you beautiful words about my words and pictures. I thank you from my soul and being.
Being back home on wee Cortes I have moved into the internal space of winter on this island of less than 1,000 people. The bustling current of the nearly 13 million people of Istanbul still vibrates in my cells. I can still remember the moment of sitting at a cafe under the Galata Bridge, reading “My Name is Red” by Orhan Pamuk, and looking up to watch the ferries, the fishing boats, the freighters crossing the Golden Horn into the Bosphorus, the vein running between Turkey’s European and Asian sides, and I felt such a completion, such a compelling emotion of belongedness that filled me up.
Now the work of integration begins. I sit each day in front of my home computer and type away on a book of my travels. Nearby are my cats, Jack and Clause, and at my feet, my Turkish rug. Considering it was my companion for nearly the entire trip, I wish now I had given it a name and perhaps taken pictures of it and me at all my destinations, much like the globe-trotting photos of the travelling gnome. Me and The Rug at Ephesus, me and The Rug at dinner, me and The Rug looking at other orphan rugs and drinking apple tea. I think I’ll call it Eugene.
The changes are still manifesting, still arising each day. I know now that I can travel to far off places alone and do more than just fine. I have the burning call within me to see more of this planet, meet its people and cultures and bring back a piece of their specialness to merge into my life. For now my wee isle and I have a tethered year ahead of us. When I decide to break away again, you’ll be the first to know.
Oh, and for those of you concerned about me travelling along, I never needed those wing mirrors.
Huzur,Sevgi ve Işıkla
Love, light and peace.