I don’t remember the exact moment when I find it.
Thai people walked in silence around the temple and I sobbed like a baby. They stared at me. I stared at the big golden Buddha in Nakhon Pathom. So after two and a half years of waiting I came to Thailand to cry? In front of the Buddha?! What happened to me?!
I felt oceans of sadness pouring out. There I was. Finally traveling. Finally doing things my way yet I cried and cried, wondering what launches an avalanche of strange feelings inside me.
I started walking. I glanced at the monk who stood silently next to me in orange robe. When the last tear dried I felt a frightening void. But footsteps became lighter. Breathing became slower and all of a sudden I could feel myself.
I did not know then.
The next day I woke up at 5 am. The morning was chilly and quiet.
The monks already started walking the streets to gather the alms and not until I hopped on a train have I noticed that I was smiling.
Slowly moving train felt like a meditation. Music loaded my ears. The first soft rays of sunrise brought warmth to a new day. I absorbed the rays, feeling so good. Nothing was in my mind. Nothing was under my control. I wasn’t sure where I was going, nor was it important anymore. Silent waves of absolute stillness settled my body. We were moving in the direction of the unlimited possibilites when the peace found me. Richness poked out from struggle.
My freedom was born.
It came slowly. Sneaking. Torturing me. Questioning me.
I thought there was no greater freedom than to buy a one-way ticket. So I did it. I thought I was free only because I decided so. After more than two years of living like a robot, with two jobs and studying, I was on the Road, ready to be free. But it doesn’t work like that and the ugly truth descended upon me. I wasn’t used to it.
Knowing that I was free did not make me free. I needed to step back from my past. I needed to finally relax and realize that I wasn’t fighting for my dream anymore. I was living it. And I could go wherever I wish to go. To move or to stay. It was all on me and those findings were frightening.
It was freedom working.
And freedom is a powerful feeling. Uncomfortable one. It cannot be controlled. There is no such thing as a bad or a wrong choice. Being truly free is being truly alive. Courageous. A little bit crazy. A gambler (with the money also). It awakens. It puts dirt under the nails and it messes with the hair. It excites and expands the capacity to wonder.
And therefore it can be even dangerous.
Freedom can make us feel the weight of the world on our shoulders.
Finding freedom is one of the scariest things we will do in life.
But when you know there’s a place for you somewhere out there, heading into the unknown becomes the best ride ever.
And in that train ride, after a month spent traveling, I did it. I embraced my freedom. I let it in.
To find my freedom wasn’t an easy process and that’s why I cried so much. My inner world was cluttered with past traumas and I had to learn how to be free.
My wings finally spread. It was the most calming and the most upsetting feeling ever.
And it is still ongoing.
p.s. I wouldn’t change it for a thing.