My last few weeks in Melbourne and Brisbane were an absolute whirlwind filled with hugs, laughter, rum and tears. I found it really interesting how people reacted differently to my news. Some were extremely excited and immediately started planning adventures together, others were sad and disappointed, and some were even triggered and their abandonment wounds surfaced. But there was one clear pattern; they all showered me with love and gratitude.

Through reflection, I came to realise that perhaps people felt more comfortable to express their emotions and show love because they knew I was leaving. There was an end date in sight, so there was less risk of pain. This made me wonder why we don’t behave like this all the time.

I think we spend a lot of time trying to forget that everything is temporary and we take our lives for granted, but I actually think that only by embracing this impermanence do we start to truly live. We should love as deeply and as openly as if our time is limited, because it is. This is something I want to carry with me on my journey and, I hope, for the rest of my life.

And with that, I gave close to 1001 kisses to my loved ones as I said my goodbyes.

Propagating flowers

Ten years ago, when I left Damascus, I didn’t have a choice. I spent years coming to terms with a reality that was inflicted on me without my consent. While I understand the logic behind my parents decision, I still felt anger and grief for a life I wasn’t allowed to see through.

In those days, I often wrote poems illuding to feeling like a flower plucked from a burning field. In the short term, you’re saving the flower from burning, but in the long run, the flower will starve and perish. That is, unless you propagate the flower.

A big part of my decision to plunge into the unknown is to take back that power and consciously choose where and how I want to live. I recognise that this is a tremendous privilege, and most people in the world cannot even dream of making such a choice. But while I have the option, I’m choosing to take it and in return I shall continue to dedicate my life’s work to making people’s lives better, in one way or another.

Though painful, saying goodbye felt right. This time, I wasn’t being forced to leave. This time, I wasn’t running away from anything. This time, it’s my choice, and only I can be held responsible for my life.

The wait is over. Bring it on.  

love and solidarity, 

Nathalie 

Written from: Meanjin (Brisbane), Australia 

Next stop: Beirut, Lebanon