Impermanence

I’m in the process of moving to the other end of the country. Not my first move, and as my nephew pointed out, at least this one is in the same country, which they haven’t always been. But somehow this one feels a lot bigger. Perhaps it’s because over the last four years, I’ve built a quiet, stable life in Leeds. Moving when I was a student or had just graduated didn’t feel so difficult. Now, I have furniture to think about. Apparently that makes a difference.

I’ve been in Brighton looking at places to live and I’ve put in an application on a flat right on the seafront. I started this little trip by feeling completely overwhelmed. Everything felt overly complicated and stressful. I’d been there all of three hours and had decided that I sucked at navigating and everything was terrible.

As with many things, all I really needed was some time. Yesterday was a slightly cloudy day, with sun shining through from time to time. I headed out of my hotel and went down to the beach, where I grabbed some brunch before going for a walk. I used the sound of the sea as my guide, walking west along the beach until I reached the location of my new house. It felt so easy and calm. Just walking with my own thoughts and nothing else. I found a bench and read my book, managed to get sunburnt in the smallest amount of sunshine, and then headed back to my hotel. In the evening I met up with another blind person who lives in the area.

I feel so much calmer than I did that first evening. It’s not that those feelings weren’t valid; they were real and I’m sure something that others experience. But they weren’t permanent.