Deep breaths, here we go.
I am doing it again: jumping off the deep end, back into the wild unknown.
A plane ticket, vague notions, a semblance of plans.
First stop: Portugal.
Trust me when I tell you I have never planned things so loosely in my life. I know I am returning to farming in mere days, first landing in Lisbon and then heading south via a bus route I haven't fully sorted out yet.
I've looked it up on a map. I know that permaculture is the planned emphasis. But as these things go, you never know.
And for now: utter chaos.
As I am known to do, I operate within bursts of productivity and panic. The rest of the time I spend in a state of complete procrastination. Historically this is my natural tendency and I am further powerless in the midst of a spring that's finally sprung. Seeming to opt always to spend these remaining hours in the park, in the grass, at restaurants, or in bars, I feel like I am getting nothing done. But I'm soaking up all the time I can get with my friends, while I can, and that's important too. This goodbye feels heavier than usual.
Meanwhile forever sorting through. Throwing it away, packing it away, giving it away.
Piles begetting more piles, more chaos, more of this suspended reality.
Two more days of cubicle work life, six more days of this Brooklyn existence.
No job, no aparment, no idea.
And the list of things to do between now and takeoff: ENDLESS.