The Statement - December 2015
After quitting our jobs, living out of our car while driving through Central America for seven months, and then living out of our backpacks around the world for another five months, my partner, Francisco, and I were beyond weary. Turns out that nagging restlessness you have when you’re nine-to-fiving finds its equal counterpart in a deep urge for stability after you’ve unpacked and repacked your rooftop tent for two hundred nights in a row and slept in hundreds of strange beds, waking up disoriented, unsure which continent has been rocking your cradle of bones and flesh. Wanderlust meets exhaustion: Newton’s Third Law, in action.
This was her career: four broken toes. A ruptured hamstring. Torn knee ligament. Torn ankle ligament. In her seven years as a student, there had been only four Showings. Twice she had been too young, and twice she had been too injured to perform well. How she wailed, that last time, when she learned she was not Selected. How clear it was, in her childish moments, that the world had affixed its misfortune to her, like a spotlight.
The days went on, and in the middle of a small trip to Tulum, not even its wonderful beach could have brought me to mindfulness, or total enjoyment. This image of a grain of rice kept going on in my mind, making me absent of what was really happening at the moment, leading me into this inner dialogue now I know most of us have, but just a few dare to share or say out loud. What am I doing here? Do I really dare to believe I can make a difference?