Reaching the apex of my Canadian adventure, I wrote a post moments before boarding back to Germany, "Sunset at Toronto Pearson Airport". Connecting with a soul mate and jumping headfirst into the unknown remains the single most exhilarating experience I've ever been through. Full stop.
That notwithstanding, as our story progressed and we focused on keeping our heads above the water and ultimately finding a routine to settle on, we somehow allowed that magic to slip away. (Also, blog entries became more and more scarce... ).
Over time, I rationalized that developing a narrative - whether an academic course, a sports career, a company, or likely any craft or art - requires an immersion and a degree of structure that often times is in direct contrast with those in place when starting anew. The apparent boredom of a strict training regime, for instance, allows one to thrive in a sport that rewards commitment and long hours on the saddle - ultimately awarding one with experiences of a completely different character from those obtained through the thrills of discovering a new activity. And again, I've learned to make the most of such condition and have found great joy in such pursuits.
But - on the subject of relationships, it was more as if I had simply resigned, or perhaps learned to come to terms with such outcome. Or so I thought. A catalytic discussion in a most unexpected setting left me questioning such conclusion. Does it really, necessarily also apply to interpersonal interactions? Can there not be a (stable?) balance between the two?
- - -
If only for an instant, however brief and fleeting - the glimpse of that spark reminded me of the feelings that dwell in new beginnings. And this morning, as the sun pierced through the scattered clouds and shone on Heathrow's Terminal 2, I couldn't hold back, and had to cry my heart out once again.
Thank you, T. .