One of my best friends had a dream a few years back.
We were sitting on a beach somewhere with rocks around us and she looks at me and says, “I know you’ll have a beautiful journey, but I’m going to miss you Steph.”
“It’s okay Tams, I’ll be right back. I just have to meet someone at the lighthouse,” I replied.
Before I started walking away she says, “I’ll have to go my own way for a bit. But I’ll meet you there.”
We weren’t sure what the lighthouse meant or if that dream truly meant anything. But we believed it. Our thoughts would drift to the unifying belief that maybe, just maybe, something or someone was waiting for us on the way there. The lighthouse was that piercing light glimmering through the darkness, the one that leads us to wherever
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We had amazing conversations about everything and anything and nothing. Since then we talked everyday. I was stoked to meet someone who I thought was in the same wavelength, someone I thought I connected with in levels most never touch. He offered for me to stay at his place, I was hesitant at first but eventually I accepted the offer. I came to Sydney, intoxicated on expectations. The first few days were lovely but it didn’t work out. I felt myself falling and opened up too quickly, since I felt like I could be. But I was wrong. To cut it short, he wasn’t what I thought he’d be and it started feeling like I was in a world I wasn’t supposed to be in. For some reason I didn’t feel like myself. So I packed my things, bid the short romance goodbye, thanked him for a beautiful time and left. I wished him goodness. He didn’t say a word and I accepted it. I learned. Then I piled his name with the other names of men that never came to be and carried …show more content…
It was the night of the full moon in Manly. I hadn’t seen her in the flesh since we met on that night in Ubud, it felt good to be reunited again. We spilt to each other everything we’ve missed since then. We wrote manifestations and intentions on paper, then walked to the beach. We ran to a couple men to borrow a lighter. I lit up my paper and watched it burn under the moonlight. I thought of everything I wanted to alchemize and manifest into my life, closed my eyes, breathed every second of the the present moment until my paper turned into ashes, until the waves swallowed its remnants. I look back at Nirrimi and smile in the dark. Life is surreal. I remember when I just first started out with photography, she was one of my first favorite photographers. I’d follow her throughout the years on her blog, back then she was just a 13-year-old girl with a fiery passion for creating images and taking the photography world by storm. Back when she started traveling with her old love around the world shooting campaigns, when she gave birth to her daughter, and all her pains, heartaches, triumphs, and moments of bliss were exposed to the world. I’ve always admired for her courageous vulnerability. For this impetus inside of her, a blazing passion for life and beauty found the simplest things. Her spirit echoes with mine. My gaze moves from her and back up at the moon in gratitude. Our dreams and wishes are now