This is my homecoming
A love letter to my solo wanderings and the places that gave me deep peace.
“When was the last time you felt deep peace and what were you not doing then?
When I was a kid, I spent a lot of my days in my bedroom. There was a big wooden dresser attached to the wall, painted in white and adorned with various bits and bobs—some mine, most my parents’. There were two wardrobes, one with my clothes and the other filled with empty hangers, laundry baskets stacked on top of each other, and the freshly ironed clothes of everyone else in the house. The door handle was broken that it was sitting awkwardly at a bit of an angle with a tiny hole on the side. Everytime someone opened and closed the door, it made a jangly sound. If you move your head closely to the hole and squint your eyes, there was a whole new world out there to observe. Whenever we had visitors, I used it a lot to spy on them. 😅
In my room, I did a lot of reading and day dreaming. I day dreamed a lot. Whenever I’d read a new book and listen to new music, or at bed time when I’m supposed to be sleeping, I’d dream of faraway lands, romantice walking on cobblestone sidewalks, living a life that is completely different to mine.
I think in the deepest parts of my soul, I have always been a wanderer. Not in the tick-that-box-and-move-on type of traveler but one who needs to experience other places to find themselves. I’ve always known that I was meant for more than the four walls of our house. I was meant to wander past the jangly door knob, to explore the vast world in that tiny hole.
In the never ending routine of our current adult lives, we cannot deny the fact that sometimes (or is it most of the time?), we lose ourselves. We go from day to day not even having the time to stop and ask ourselves, “Am I happy?” and if not, “What can I do so I can be?”
“What would truly make me happy?”
A week ago, I stumbled across a question my friend posed online. She asked, “When was the last time you felt deep peace and what were you not doing then?”
I realised that it’s always been traveling in solitude.
When I first traveled on my own, I felt like the whole world opened up to me. Like my soul could rest and just be. That as I’m walking new roads, seeing new things, and learning a culture and place that I’ve never been, I’m also allowing myself to breathe. I was like a canvas ready to be painted on, not knowing how it will look after but knowing it will be beautiful nonetheless.
“Whenever I travel solo, I feel deep peace. It always feels like a homecoming to my heart and soul. No clocking in for work, no chores, just a pure sense of wide-eyed wonder,” I answered.
There are several places in the course of my lifetime (so far) where I’ve felt my soul sigh, like love letters I’ve accumulated over the years. Some that still hold profound meaning and some, a sense of gratitude that it’s come and gone, with nothing but a whiff of nostalgia left.
Singapore was my first love. It was the first country I ever traveled to on my own. I was a sheltered and naive girl trying to understand how the world works. I met so many friends on this trip—few of whom I still talk to. It was the first time I felt truly free.
La Union (in the Philippines) was the tumultous love affair that came and went. It taught me to love the ocean, showed me how beautiful a simple and natural life can be, and ultimately how to love and choose myself. I cannot remember how many sunrises I’ve watched there and how many minutes I’ve spent staring at the ocean.
Japan was an intermission, a much needed respite to snap me back to my senses. For years I’ve been lulled to sleep by routines that I needed a reminder who I am, why I do what I do; a reminder that calm and rest is necessary. It’s the comfortable silence between two old friends, the kindness of a stranger, and the calm of an orderly life all rolled into one.
Australia was the love I never knew I needed—a true homecoming. It was a stab in the dark, a total trust in God moment, an absolute faith move that paid itself back in more ways than one. My first year here, alone and pushing on, is the year I most romanticise. If La Union taught me to appreciate nature, Australia immersed me in it. It embraced me with open arms and showed me a lighter and brighter kind of life. It will forever be an ongoing love story.
I fear there will constantly be moments in my life where my soul would like to drop everything it’s holding and just go for a wander. And while the growing demands of life try to keep me grounded, for now, I think I will constantly be searching for that sigh, that sense of relief albeit momentary. I search for it now in the quiet of the early morning. I search for it in the silence where I can hear my mind think.
No matter the manner of wandering, there is nothing like a homecoming that fills my cup to overflowing, ready again—to live, to love, and to be.
What about you? When was the last time you felt deep peace and what were you not doing then?
The subject of today’s writing was inspired by my friend, Charm, and her thoughtful question on New Year’s Eve.