Hey,
When we moved out of our rental back in April, we set out for a stint of roving. ‘Digital nomad’ never sat quite right on my tongue; roving slips a little more smoothly.
It was a pretty major undertaking. Moving house is hard enough, but, this time, we weren’t really moving to anywhere. We had to whittle our possessions down to whatever would fit in our Fiesta and sell, donate, or rehome the rest.
In true millennial fashion, our houseplants were a big issue to resolve.
We split them across four different temporary homes, leaving them in the capable and loving hands of our friends and family. The majority went up to Bex’s parents - our first temporary camp before we set out on our own for good.
We dropped the plants off in Leicestershire, went home to finish packing, and came back a week later to find them struggling. Wilting leaves, floppy stems (stop the giggling, you), and discolouration abound.
I felt exasperated, but it made sense. Different air, different light, different water. The fundamentals of their environment - what they knew and thrived in - had changed. 3.5 hours away was a different world to them. To not-quite-literally uproot them and expect them to behave as if nothing had happened was asking a lot.
Then what about me? What about my roots? My environment?
Even with the best preparation and planning, adjusting is still... an adjustment!
Next time I’m about to step into something new, I’m going to give myself grace. More than I planned to. Even if I’m excited about what’s ahead, even if I’ve planned it all out in perfect detail, I'm still a delicate ecosystem. Adjusting takes time. It’s a slow process. The sooner I realise it can be neither forced nor avoided, the sooner I’ll settle into that phase of change and enjoy it for what it is.
Need a little help moving slower?
Ease your way out of Friday afternoon with this newsletter, a nice cup of something, and a little background music. Steal my setup if you aren't sure where to start.
After I press send, I’m going to brew a mug of Lands End Coffee’s Round Island on filter. From his shipping container turned roastery just inland from the westernmost tip of England, Ryan names each coffee after the lighthouses orbiting Cornwall's southwest coast.
There’s magic in being at the edge of the world. It does something to my soul, puts me in my place. It gives me some perspective on the vast distances, energies, and skills that have gone into making something as small and impermanent as a cup of coffee.
Whilst you ponder life on an island and sip on a mug of the good stuff, give Caffeine Rivers by Hailaker a spin. It's a nice thematic fit, don't you think? The whole album is worth your time, if you’ve got the time to give to it.
Take it easy,