This is Big Ben. It was build in 1859, the teacher pointed out. I stopped listening. I just stood there. Looking at this impressive, gigantic clock. I watched the people go by. On their way to work, school, whatever. I looked around. The Themes. The impressive buildings in front of me. I felt the buzz from the big city. I felt it’s impulse. It’s sounds. It’s colours. It’s heartbeat. I knew, that I had to come back and live here some day. 6 years later, I made it happen.
After having struggled to walk around for the past two days. I really wanted to go for a walk today. I was feeling restless. The bandage came off my leg last night and I still feel like, I’ve been run over by a car. Brushed and in pain. I was sitting on the sofa thinking what to write about, when I felt like someone turned my head to look at the book case. I found myself staring at one specific book (If you have read some of my previous posts, you will know, that I often get guided to look at a book, go outside, listen to music or draw an angel card. That’s how I get inspired. That’s how my intuition works). If I don’t instantly know, which page in the book would be relevant for the story of the day, I ask. I didn’t in the beginning, but I do now, as I find it much easier than having to read the whole book 🙂 . Today the answer was: start at page 44.
I opened the book. I haven’t read the book, but I’ve seen the film (many times). One of the first sentences I came across were: Travelling is the great love of my life… I have always felt like it’s worth sacrificing everything for travelling… I love it, it’s me…. I have my own survival skills. I can get by with very little luggage. I can eat anything. On page 44 was also mentioned a lot of different countries, that this author had been travelling to.
Not understanding which message was trying to unfold for me, I put my boots on and tied them as I normally do. I left the house and started walking. First very slowly not sure, if my legs would be able to support me. The boots felt tight on my sore leg. I stopped and adjusted the straps. I felt better. I continued. I can always turn around if it hurts too much, I said to myself. A song started playing on my playlist. I haven’t heard it since back in the 90’s (I guess it was a one-hit-wonder) I found myself paying attention to the lyrics. All of a sudden the singer was rapping his way through countless of different countries. What was the connection to the book?
And then it hit me. I have been so occupied in trying to figure out how I can make writing a way of living, who could I speak to? Who could help me? How do I even get started? That I have forgotten all about my other passion: Travelling. I think that travelling was possibly my first great love. The different cultures, food, language, nature – I love it. I can talk about it for hours and hours. Even when I was a student, I always found a way to buy that ticket to go somewhere. All I needed was a bed to sleep in, or a campsite for my tent. What mattered was the FEELING about being somewhere new, somewhere exciting. I always try to learn how to say thank you and hello in the country I’m visiting. I guess I think it’s the least I can do to show some respect. I love it, when people want to tell me a bit about themselves. Tell me what it’s like living there. Share their food recipes with me. Anything that’s going on in the country and how it’s affecting them. I love it with a passion.
I guess there’s a reason why I married a non Danish man, always gets seated at the “international table” at parties, always make friends with people, that come from different countries, but ended up in Denmark because of love or work (or both). Reading countless foreign books. And magazines. And blogs.
I can’t explain why, I that day back in 1992 (!) just stood there in London, not paying attention to what my teacher was telling me. I was 14 years old. It was my first trip abroad (without my parents) and I had a very strong feeling of belonging. Like coming home. So strong I had to go back and live there as soon as possible.
I can’t help wondering if this is my intuition’s way of telling me, that I need to include travelling in my plans too. Maybe write about travelling? Travelling with intuition? Intuitive travelling? Life is a journey? Travelling abroad? This got me thinking about the reason why I write in English. I did actually ask my intuition, if I was to write in my native language Danish or English. There was no misunderstanding of the answer.