In February, shortly after starting my 31st year on earth, (aka. turning 30), I realized that I would have to spend the first month of my new year doing school work for my master’s program, instead of creative writing or any other creative projects.

This broke my heart a little, to lay down something that brought me joy in order to complete something that felt onerous and dry. But this has been a theme in my life for the last year, so I followed through.

I had hoped to finish the series of assignments and essays by the end of February so that I could have a few weeks in March to do creative writing, before the next round of school work picked up in April.

Last week, which was the first week of March, I found myself only halfway through a paper on pilgrimages and world religions. I really wanted to get it don’t ASAP, but was quite aware of the irony of trying to rush through a paper on pilgrimages.

I had to just accept that I can’t control every event (plus, that’s the point of a pilgrimage) and re-assess what I should do. Should I keep plowing through this paper, or pause so that I can let my creative writing juices flow and freewrite some blogs?

If I don’t do any creative writing for a while, I start to feel like I’m losing my grip on reality. I’m not sure who I am or where I’m at in life. It’s like the car of life keeps moving, but I’ve stopped looking at the map, and I’m not sure if I’m still on track anymore. Writing helps me to express certain emotions and process things that are on my heart. Without my writing practice, it all gets congested in me.

So I’m here now, and the pilgrimage paper will have to take a little longer.

Pausing my creative projects — short films, vlogs, creative writing — to complete assignments for my masters of divinity is has been theme in my life for a while now. I’ve written before about what my creative projects mean to me, but as much as I try to process the sadness of letting go of something I love, the sadness and the emptiness returns.

There is nothing I can do about it. I cannot quit masters. I’m almost half way through now! (I’m done 1.5 of a 3.5-4 year program.) I also have this inescapable sense that this masers will play into my future, so I just have to stick it out and learn and grow as much as possible.

Still, the days when I’m not creating something deeply meaning to me are tainted with this feeling of futility.

I feel like there are wars I could be talking about.

There is global climate change I could be fighting.

There are billions of hungry people who I could be feeding.

Instead, I’m forced to have my face in a 500+ page book reading about how Christians changed their minds about theological doctrines for the last 2,000 years.

Ok, it’s not all bad. I have moments, even days, where I catch a glimpse of how these disconnected parts of my life might actually be coming together.

Like just this Friday, I wrote and produced a video for Faith Strong Today about women in the Christian faith, and only two weeks ago, I had prepped a 40 minute presentation that dissected how women should be interpreted in the Bible. I only used a tiny fraction of the 20+ hours I’d spent on the presentation for the 4 minute video, but at least I got to use it! I felt like I could speak more authoritatively on the issue. I wasn’t just regurgitating what someone else thought about women in Christianity.

There was also a proposal I put together in December, for another class project. The idea that came to me, and that I presented was something I called “Spiritual Centres for Explorers.” It’s basically my version of a retreat centre/creative studio/hostel/eco-community all mashed up together. I had to include an implementation plan, and I gave the project 15 years before completion.

Building spiritual centres feels like a life calling. I wouldn’t be surprised if by the time I die, there are a few plots of land in the world that I’ve helped cultivate.

Meanwhile, I’m here in my little town outside of Toronto, plugging away at books and essays for a masters programs that I don’t know why I’m completing, tweaking websites and designing graphics for work.

On a lot more days than I’d want to admit, it feels futile. My heart is not connected to the work I’m doing anymore, and I’m in the process of figuring out why.

So, the last month has been full of emotional ups and downs.

Yet there has been one thread of hope.

The Belief That Life Could Be Beautiful.
Here, Too.

All of the mundanity and quietness caused by the pandemic lockdowns has helped me to integrate a daily structure into my days.

The daily schedule to me all at once during a morning journaling session in January: “Anita’s Beautiful Creative Life Training Camp.” A download from then mind of God.

I wrote down the exactly what I’d want to do with each block of my day, from the time I woke up until I returned to bed. It may seem OCD to some, but it’s given purpose and meaning in my days. It means that even when work is a bit dry, the day can pass with some joy and a sense of progress. Each day, since January, I’ve gotten a little closer to nailing the exact times in my Beautiful Creative Life and it gives me a sense of accomplishment.

It also gives me permission to let things take time. It’s ok if I don’t complete something today. I have a block of time tomorrow to continue it.

******

This weekend, as I hiked through forest, a new layer of understanding came to me.

“How would you live if this was Bali?”

It’s not that everything is perfect in Bali. It’s that in certain places in the world, the pace is slower and it whittles away at our western sense of rush. The quality of my days would be completely different. I would let my spirit by moved by joie de vivre, pure vida, la dolce vita.

I would relax into my life, instead of trying to accomplish more to move to the next big project.

Instantly, I knew that this was a message from a divine wisdom, from God.

How would I live if I had this exact same life — same jobs, same routine, same school work — but I lived in Bali?

I would give myself permission to enjoy the little things that make life special. I would eat breakfast slower. I would let myself play and laugh. I would let myself enjoy little walks. I would make more music.

I wouldn’t let work be the focal point of my life. Work would just be one part of my life, a part to enjoy.

Instead of feeling frustrated with my jobs, I would relish in the ease, trusting that the same Spirit that brought me to Bali and gave me a home, will lead me to the next job. I would relish in the enjoyment of having work to do, work that is not too hard, nor took east.

I would cherish every day I have in Bali, and soak in as much of the spirit of Bali as possible. I’d want to get that joie de vivre, the pura vida, la dolce vita into me.

I would relax into my life, instead of trying to push into progress in my life.

I would stop taking everything so seriously.

Where I am would be enough.

The fact that I am alive, I am healthy and I am living would be enough.

I would stop complaining about things and I would rejoice! “I am alive! I get to be here!”

To hold the spirit of Bali, in a western city, where everything seems quite sterile is not easy, but something tells me I can do this.

Experiencing la dolce is not something I need to force, it’s something for me to settle into. The less I energy I spent being frustrated, the more I can feel the sunlight on my skin.

I’m a couple of years removed from the days when I woke up to the sounds of leaves rustling and birds chirping and women making chapati on the streets, but that spirit of the traveller still lives in me.

I know what it’s like to live with a sense of wide awake wonder, and I want to allow that wonder to arise again in me.

Over the last 3.5 years of living in the city, I’ve had moments, and days, where I was enraptured in wonder, but it inevitably fades.

This season, living in a new small town, working from home, is another chance to awaken the wonder. There are times for seizing the day, and there are times when life seizes you, like this pandemic has done to us.

I’m not advocating living in a magical fairyland with our heads in the clouds all the time. I am advocating with a quiet audacity to choose to see the good, no matter what life gives you.

It’s not turning a blind eye to the difficulty of others. It’s turning to face it. To sit down with the one who is in pain and share a little kindness.

How would I live this day if was in Bali?

How much beauty and goodness would I see here?

Life here is allowed to be good and I am allowed to breath it in.