By Tshegofatso Ndabane

That moment – it happens. When everything inside of you shifts smoothly into place and though not much else makes any sense you have this certainty that need not announce itself that you are indeed home.

It happened almost six months after my initial move to this city. I was seated by my bedroom with a cup of green tea in hand and the sound of evening traffic that my gut whispered the words. The thing is, I was having one of the busiest weeks of my term and loving every bit of it. My lower back was aching, my eyes were fighting me for some down time, I may even had hurriedly gobbled my dinner for the pure sustenance of it, but something about even the wonky bits felt all right with me.

If anything, my move has ironed out any doubt that my gut instinct has crossed her wires and so might lead me down the wrong paths. I think often we expect that following one’s instinct means life will be perfect or that decisions based on this will have you walking on a cloud of delirious happiness. If anything, following your gut is perhaps the hardest voice to heed precisely because the road to which it leads is terrifyingly murky and so beyond your comfort zone that it gets easier to shove it aside as lunacy. The truth is, nothing about my move was easy, if anything, it was probably one of the hardest things I have had to do thus far. To move 1500 km away from home without even an inch of a safety net on which to fall back left me either shaking, or crying, literally, for the entire week before I boarded my flight.

But the landing. My god, the landing! That first step out into the air of a new city left me breathlessly terrified, but for the first time in my life, I knew that this is exactly where I need to be right now. Words cannot do this justice, no explanation can fully capture the knowing. Because really, there are some things that, when you know- you know. It may not make any tangible or logical sense but, you know.  You just have to be willing to fly… to throw yourself completely to the wind so you can soar.

You have to surrender.

That’s been a major thing this year. My only declaration as I ushered in the new year was that it would be my bold year. What I didn’t anticipate was that almost all of that boldness would entail exercising my ability to surrender, to let go of all that I have known in exchange to witness the pure magnitude and calm with which everything else would flow.

Although, it doesn’t all happen at once. You will be uncertain, you will miss the old, you may even consider going back, because you know all of it, and really, it knows you too. But nothing can ever quite measure up to what it means to watch your goddess in bloom. To look back beyond the fear and be surrounded only by peace.

I do not know how much time I have left here. I may not even make it through to the following year, but I do know that for now this is home. If nothing else, it’s simply my instinctual self coming home my truest self. You see that nobody can ever take that away from you. They may never even want to, because people are attracted to greatness, what they see in you they may aspire to one day see in themselves, and that’s the best part. That wildflowers are able to bloom anywhere, and in doing so they drop the seeds from which others too may one day come to bloom.

You. Are. Home.

Uncertain. But home. That’s the beauty of it.

Image: Abigail Keenan

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