“Because in real life, unlike in history books, stories come to us not in their entirety but in bits and pieces, broken segments and partial echoes, a full sentence here, a fragment there, a clue hidden in between. in life, unlike in books, we have to weave our stories out of threads as fine as the gossamer veins that run through a butterfly's wings.”
― Elif Shafak, The Island of Missing Trees

I’m flashing forward past the the last week of traveling in Melbourne and surrounding areas to where I sit now, on my friend’s couch, full of words and unsure where to start. We have a Pilates class in an hour, followed by a sunset roof top tour, and a home cooked meal. I’m waiting to hear from a friend of a friend I met at the wedding who I may meet up with afterwards for a glass of wine, to catch up and say goodbye. That friend may or may not give me a ride to the airport, which always feels a big ask, but it is so much nicer to hug someone goodbye than it is to anonymously leave a Lyft or bus.

I board my plane tomorrow morning at 9am, and head back into my world. Fourteen hours over the sea, where the effects of travel can settle into me. This trip has been packed. I have future blog posts that will revisit the Great Ocean road, lingering rainbows, sauna in the woods and Normal Gossip. Each pocket of the story is imbued with so much mundane magic that it is hard to know where to start, and like many good stories, sometimes we need to jump forward to elicit the thrill of jumping back. The resounding theme across the trip has been the synchronicities. A magical mix of the right song playing at the right time, to soul connections with strangers, to finding out that the aforementioned friend from the wedding loves Tom Robbins as much as I do.

I’ve always believed that synchronicities are the universe’s way of telling us that we are on the right track. I like the idea of our souls catching up to themselves, as if some piece snuck off ahead of us waiting to see if we could find our way back to it. It is safe to say that my trip has been an overwhelming and resounding affirmation of being where I am supposed to be. From the moment I boarded the plane to Australia, I’ve been dancing with wildly suspicious coincidences. I find solace in believing that there are little signs that blink us into meaning. I think these signs are far more available to us when we aren’t so goddamn busy trying to keep up with the capitalist grind.

The thing I’ve loved most about this trip is that the people I was traveling with were all properly on * vacation * which meant that no one was checking their phones or experiencing rises in their cortisol levels or having their attention elsewhere. This allowed all of us to ‘drop in’ to where we were, exploring each day with whatever mini-adventure was to come. I, regretfully, was the most pre-occupied, juggling classes Monday-Wednesday on zoom, and checking in on the shop after hiring a new employee two weeks prior, and trying to coordinate making time for my friends in Melbourne. Amidst the organization though, I felt a sense of calm and of being seen that I haven’t in years.

Perhaps this is where the light gets in. It’s not just the cracks, but it is in getting to places where we can’t hide the cracks. It is an unraveling of sorts, where every defense we built up to hide ourselves, finally for whatever reason starts working. And suddenly people can see us, and we dont have the energy to hide our stories and all we can do is sit there raw in our story. Exposed. And guess what? That is exactly where true love finds you. When your friend leans in and says ‘I had no idea’ and keeps loving you. This is where the healing happens and our wounds scar over and we can move forward without having to explain them again and again and again.

I think we all spend a lot of time feeling like we are the only one’s feeling whatever it is that we are going through. We forget so easily how impossible the idea of disconnection is. We cannot escape this beautiful matrix called life, no matter how far away we feel from the things that sustain us, and the more intimately we know ourselves and our stories and how we got to where we are, the more readily people are able to love us (or not) and allow us our full authenticity….. heading to pilates… BRB.

The evening rushed on and I am only just catching my breath, safely on the plane in the sky. Spoiler alert, I did get a ride to the airport, however this time it was with someone who I truly wanted to every minute of time I could have with.

After I signed off yesterday I went to pilates, where I got to greet a friend of the friends I was staying with, with a little butt tap the way she accidentally greeted my friend, thinking she was someone else. Pilates was hard, and my legs are now sore as I sit contorted across my seats. Somehow I scored a row with no one next to me. I am giddy with the space to sprawl. After Pilates we got a tour of the public school where my friend Matt teaches. It was beautiful, each floor a different subject, and a spiral staircase winding down from the roof top basketball courts that overlook the city.

I marvel at the design. At buildings designed to foster connection with each other and the world outside re: giant windows and outdoor patios. I imagine the kids in this school, thriving on both the mental welfare of the other students, but also the teachers who take so much pride in the campus that we are there after hours for a tour. Again, I wonder at what the world would be like if we worked towards a world that is designed to support our human and environmental bodies.

Dinner was lovely, with Salmon and rice and catching up on what is happening in our social circles. There are few things more bonding than getting on the same page with our community’s stories. As mentioned earlier, the friend of a friend from the wedding extended an offer for snacks and a lift to the airport, so Matt shuttled me over to his apartment where I immediately noticed the irony of it being situated atop a florist shop. Once again, a little green flag waving wildly in the sunset.

His apartment stopped me in my tracks. Wildly inviting, albeit modern and unlike what I am traditionally attracted to. I spent about 10 minutes with his bookshelf. His collection said ‘Philosophy, science, nature, and the edge of spirituality.’ I think everyone should have a precursory ‘what’s on your bookshelf’ moment when getting to know each other, if for nothing else other than unlocking the myriad of conversation that can follow. We talked. The kind of talking that feels like you’ve known each other forever, so familiar that you feel surprised when you learn something new about them even though realistically it’s the first time you’ve heard it?

This connection was so sweet I don’t feel that my readers deserve the details. All I can say is that the universe has a funny way of introducing people exactly when we need them. And this time, it felt that it was trying to tell me that there are brilliant, kind and gentle people who believe in a world that I do.

It’s always a shame to find the juice of connection on the way out of a country, but there we were talking about Freud and Environmental Design at 6a in the morning on the way to the airport. I have always wished there was a way to stop time for these moments, but I also think that sometimes these moments are as beautiful as they are because they cannot last. Because they are what they are without any possibility of holding onto them.

I sit on the plane feeling at ease. Ironically, I am once again over Apia in the middle of the pacific. I feel a settling happening. It is such an honor to be able to witness two people choosing each other for a life time, and to meet the people that love the same people. To be able to see the threads that link us all together, and the countless ways we can craft our lives and dance with those around us. Mostly, it is a beautiful thing to embrace who I am entirely. To let my soft squishy heart extend itself towards the people and places that plant gardens in my heart, and teach me to be wild. Above all else. it is a gift to go home to a place that I love, knowing that the people there love me all full of gold sealed cracks. That they love me, knowing that I have a heart that brings life to the impossible, and that lives for the whimsical nature that life can offer.

I am not sure if I am falling in love the way I thought I would, but I am falling in love with life and the fact that I get to be here at all. That I GET to love and be loved and fall apart in awe of the tiny threads. In awe of the magic that holds it all together. In awe of the fact that I am exactly where I need to be to do what it is I have to do next.

Can’t wait to write the rest of the story with my feet in my edge of the pacific.

Big love,
Han

PPS friend of friend from wedding gave me the most incredible book of all time and I could not recommend it more.

“anyone who expects love to be sensible has perhaps never loved.”
― Elif Shafak, The Island of Missing Trees