Revisiting and posting my old blogs these past weeks has made me undeniably nostalgic.
I’ll never forget the first month I moved to Toronto. It was a whirlwind adventure. I’d applied for a job with no expectations of getting the position. Low and behold, the next thing I know, I’m hunting for an apartment in the crazy urban jungle of downtown Toronto with a roommate I met one week prior. I was walking to my new job in the heart of the city at Queen and Spadina. Going to yoga everyday at a studio that, unbeknownst to me, would eventually be where I did my teacher training. It was exciting, overwhelming and mildly terrifying with a dash of chaos thrown into the mix — adjectives that aptly describe a person’s twenties.
After moving all my furniture into the new apartment, I went for a walk to survey the new neighbourhood. I ended up drifting towards the quiet corner of Fort York – an historic sight set right in the heart of what used to be the official lakefront of Toronto.
I walked past its gates and strolled across the hilly green lawns. I came across an old log that was propped up by two smaller logs. A plaque nearby let me know this impressive piece of lumber once belonged to a building inside the fort, a building that no longer exists.
I climbed on top of this amazing piece of the past. I could feel the gravity and depth of history it held in its fibers. I could see the skyline of the downtown core with the CN tower, Bay Street building and budding condos rising up before me.
I settled my body into a solid warrior two. Rooted firmly in history, I stared long and hard into modernity. Gazing past my fingertips, feeling the energy of the city emanating towards me.
As clear as day, a voice rose up from inside me, “Do not let the zeitgeist tell you who you are. Let it inform you, but always remember who you are.”
It’s firmness both startled and stilled my heart. Like a warning of what lay ahead, coupled with an invitation to always come home to myself.
It was the exact thing I needed to hear before starting my new life in a bustling city center. Things in my life were about to get loud. I would need to keep in touch with this wise inner voice.
Sure enough, adventures were embarked upon. Distractions abounded. Many a fuck-up was attained, and as a result lots of valuable lessons learned.
Keeping in touch with the inner voice required constant visits to more quiet corners. Yoga studios, journaling, long walks and solid friends to keep bringing me back to myself.
As I re-posted my blogs from 2016 and 2017 these past weeks looking over my former writings, I felt an undeniable pull to come back to myself as an even younger adult. That 26 year old woman who first came to Toronto filled with hope, fear and lots of naivety. There were moments in my Toronto life where I had strayed away from this hopeful, idealistic woman. Most of those detours allowed me to discover parts of myself I never knew existed. Some of the detours lead to dead ends or broken hearts. However none of them were a waste of time. All of them taught me something.
One thread ties these experiences together. All of the ups and downs and mundane in between moments; they helped me find a more developed version of myself. Every time I slowed down and came back home to me, more of me had been unearthed.
What does this mean? It means I have even more to offer the world. What form will that take? I’m not entirely certain. And that’s okay. So I will continue on. Because I can. Because I want to remember who I am, standing firmly in the power of knowing my past, as I discover parts of the world and myself that are unknown.
