I was reading back through my journals last night. I was in a strange head space – yoga and time with my sister had opened my heart wide so that all the light – and dark – started to seep inside. In just over a month I'll have been in this city a year, and while so much has happened I had a moment where I felt i had stood still for too long, like an astronaut suspended in space as the world continues to spin. So i sat myself in front of the drawer where I keep all my diaries, and i pulled out the one that included July last year. The first entry i opened to spoke of my fears around moving to Bath, of wondering how I could get everything done in time, and wondered who I was to be creating the workshop i'd be teaching in the autumn. I already knew I'd call the class Unravelling… I knew what i wanted to share and how I wanted to lead the class…. i just didn't believe i had the right to teach it, or that anyone would show up.
A year later and those words made me smile, and made me want to reach out to the me of a year ago and reassure her that it would all work out okay. It makes me wonder about the dreams I scribble in my diary now – which of these will i be living this time next year? Is future me on her way here already, carrying reassuring words and a packet of Polaroid film in her pocket?