There's no place like home.
Updated: Feb 20
I've just returned from two weeks of travel across the continent.
UK - Netherlands - Germany - Czech Republic - Germany - Netherlands - UK.
I thought that this trip would carry a certain level of adventure that I have experienced on past trips, but instead I carried a void.
I travelled with a friend in his van and saw this as an opportunity to take my oil paints with me, not usually taking them when flying abroad.
I don't want to beat around the bush - I couldn't paint. I just wasn't feeling it.
Recently I've started thinking about the root of my thinking - so in this situation, why wasn't I feeling it? What does 'feeling it' feel like?
Why does it matter what it feels like - why not just paint anyway?
It's a good question.
So I tried, with my left hand and with my right. I now see my hands as separate creative entities. Why did neither of them want to play ball?
When I don’t feel inspired it’s as though someone strips me of my ability, but this is just a thought, right?
I’m asking lots of rhetorical questions to a computer screen, here.
So if I were to try and break it down into what I feel inspires me, I would begin to think about my curiosity of people and characters and logically this would mean my trip should indulge me with inspiration. But if I then simplify this process, each step is just a thought, so…. my thinking is what inspires me? Does that mean I inspire me? Or my response to others, but thats still part of the process of my thinking and my thinking comes from my ego, does that mean my ego inspires me? I don’t like that.
Anyway, I’ve been vandwelling several months now which means I wake up somewhere new every day and everyday I wake up with the buzz that I usually experience on holiday; the buzz of adventure.
I’ve been staying at a festival gathering for two weeks. I attended this festival last year and the day I left to fly I also handed my flat keys back, which meant the festival was a cleansing process for me to mark a new beginning.
This year I am living the life I dreamt of a year ago and not a lot was different at the festival, except my mindset. I slept in a tent for several consecutive nights, waking up to the same scene every day. This, I found tedious and stale.
I was irritable and I had itchy feet, uninspired by the setting that a year before had filled me with awe.
I feel disappointed by this actuality. It has taught me that by wanting to live this lifestyle I am sacrificing the adventure of holiday, for the adventure of everyday.