"What I confess is unimportant, because everything is unimportant. I make landscapes out of what I feel. I make holidays of my sensations." --Fernando Pessoa
0
Taking in the breathtaking landscape of the rock-wall seaside cliffs of the Krabi coastline and karst filled islands of the Phang Nga Bay, I basked in awe--my perceptions pierced in ways I'd never experienced. More dreamlike than real, the world disappeared, and all that was left was the taste of surrealness that brushed against my senses and lured me into a world more vivid than reality.
I stood on the far edge of the floating pier and waited on the world around me to go dark--a slow burn of golden yellow to orange and red and finally black. As I made my way back over the ridge to the adjacent beach, the rickety, dimly lit pathway, screaming monkeys, and crashing waves created a disorienting half out-of-body sensation, as jarring and surreal as the landscape.
I
I decided to disappear at the end of March. On the far edge of Ao Nang in Krabi Province, I secluded myself away in a spacious, cozy bungalow and decided I wasn't going back home. Years of compounded stress and trying to exist in a world I didn't understand finally came to a head just before I left Chiang Mai. What little self-worth and strength I had left, gone. My anxiety levels skyrocketed. I had completely lost focus of everything that once mattered to me. It was like someone pressed a reset button on my life, setting me back ten years.
As Liz Gilbert once put it, "The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying; the only thing more impossible than staying was leaving....I just wanted to slip quietly out the backdoor, without causing any fuss or consequences, and then not stop running...."
Curled in my veranda hammock, my stomach and mind in knots--how had I gotten here? I had no frame of reference anymore. How I had fallen so far from where I once stood when I stepped on that plane to India all those years ago? Nothing looked or felt the same. My life had slowly deteriorated to a distorted imitation of what I once knew. Nothing was worth the effort anymore. So I stopped believing in everything.
II
Phang Nga Bay, an otherworldly realm where sea, sky, and etheric beauty collide. Full of rock islands with jagged edges and steep cliffs, many of them full of caves that lead to deep crevices, some completely inaccessible, like dreams we can't quite remember in our waking life, yet haunt us all the same.
In the middle of the Bay sits Koh Yao Yai, the most desolate, untouched island, where silence and expansive, etheric energy permeate everything. Bare feet in the soft sand, warm, salty air on my skin, I wandered the crescent sand bars of Laem Haad and the world came into focus.
The kayak bobbed at the edge of a karst island cave. Difficult to steady, all I could do was lean back and stare at the crag, the cloudless sky, an impossible distance. And later that night, I fell into a deep sleep listening to the crash of the ocean over the rocks from my seaside Yao Noi bungalow, enveloped in calmness, in safety.
To possess a strong sense of knowing, an intuitive pulse, you must somehow remain soft in an incredibly difficult world. And the only way I could remain soft was to remove myself from a world intent to harden me. And so I intended to stay removed for a long while.
If your intuition, your inner knowing, seems to be at odds with what the world reflects to you and what others project onto you, lean into it and explore it from all angles. Learn to trust the stillness beyond your senses, thoughts, and feelings. Or as my former teacher Gurmukh once said, "If you have a question, sit in it until you are living the answer. Don't get caught in the washing machine." And once you have those answers, don't continue to sit there. Embrace them and live them.
III
I headed south to the tiniest, most far-flung, southern Thai island you can reach without leaving the country. Koh Lipe wasn't the most practical destination during a major holiday week, but with nothing left to believe in, I had nothing to lose.
The next ten days were full of intense conversations, collaborative writing, surreal snorkeling trips, midnight seaside moon-swings, and incredible sunrises and sunsets. A world removed from everything familiar--sparks of inspiration and self-esteem began to ignite in me again. Each moment that unfolded opened my eyes a bit more to a world beyond the one I'd unconsciously slipped into, one which felt sacred and safe.
Leaving Lipe was not easy. The trick now was to take the life that blossomed there and allow it to grow within me and everywhere.
From the rooftop bar behind our hotel, the sun set beyond the westward cityscape of Bangkok, but when standing at a certain angle, the glass reflected another sun, one that sets over the Chao Phraya River to the east. Two suns set--one real, one not real. The only way you can tell the difference is to know which direction is westward and which is not. Without understanding the coordinates, the landmarks of where you stand, you could be easily be fooled.
IV
Part of me dreaded returning to Chiang Mai. And yet I returned, but not to the exact same life I left. My focus and priorities have shifted in major ways. My health and wellbeing are on the mend, and instead of falling back into the same patterns and routines that have kept me stuck for far too long, I'm choosing to create the life I want and deserve. I had to stop believing in everything before everything I've always wanted began to appear and push me in new and better directions.
Surround yourself with people who challenge you to reach your highest potential, who have your best interest at heart, who aren't dismissive of your thoughts or feelings or reality, who make you feel safe and worthy of all the good things that happen to you, and most importantly, who make you feel like life is worth living (and writing about).
