Days 2&3: on firsts and gratitude

Firsts. You spend your entire life with them. It's not always that we feel like we're doing things for the first time, but every morning when you wake up, you're living that day for the first time. When you are in a new place though surrounded, the concept of Firsts feels much more raw. First time cooking brunch for 12 people. First discussions with people you have known for about 72 hours, about life and beyond. First hike alongside the creek. First jazz concert. First time bottle feeding a 5-day olf calf. First time (and hopefully the last) getting lost in the woods in the dark. Firsts...it's really a matter of perspective. It brings with it opportunity, and with opportunity we can find hope, which is really all you need - its the flashlight in the pitch black woods that assures you that you'll get home safely.

Orientation days 2 & 3 have been intense seminars, exploring the village and the woods, attending workshops for cooking, pottery, the works. I have so much gratitude towards the fact that I'm living in such a wonderful life-sharing community, humbled that I've been chosen to have the opportunity for these enriching experiences. I've taken far too many things for granted in the past, but I hope I can do everything I've been given right now, justice.

Orientation Day 1: Brain Battle

In true American-style, the first day of orientation included a pizza party, name-games and a human knot. I can't remember the last time I smiled so much ('hi, it's nice to meet you!') or laughed so hard (some friendly and unwittingly suggestive skits). In a place that is full of positive vibes: incredible scenery, wonderful & interesting people and delicious food, it's strange that I can feel bouts of homesickness, suddenly not understand where I am or what I'm doing here. And hating myself for not knowing why I was suddenly having urges to cry. It's a massive mental struggle that I'm hoping will pass quickly.

I broke many, many old habits today. My day began at 5.30 with a 30 minute run, in search of the sunrise, and is coming to a gradual end, at 9 p.m. Three days ago I was on an unbeatable cycle of 3 a.m. Game of Thrones nights, and waking up just in time for lunch, followed by a lazy day wrapped up in bed. How I am ready to sink into bed tonight, before the clock strikes ten, the routine of the day already being filed away as memories, is beyond me.

Day 0: Of Vogue's and Valleys

I have officially taken my first steps into independence. I have packed up my life into three (admittedly large) suitcases, and traveled across the world, to meet, live with, and care for people I have never seen before. I am away from all the people I love, I have stepped a million miles outside my comfort zone, to a place that is foreign and yet somehow familiar. I have never visited, never met the people I am living with, but I already feel a sense of belonging. It's hard to feel homesick when you already feel at home.

In the last twenty four hours I have:

Say tearful goodbyes to my loved ones
Traveled about 7000 miles across the globe
Bought my first British Vogue (and am on the hunt for Vogue Italia, September issue)
Eaten a schnitzel sandwich, a pretzel the size of my head and beef bourgignoun (or the pre-frozen, re-heated, cabin pressurized version of it)
Waited for 90 minutes in line at immigration
Suppressed a mini panic attack at customs
Seen the absolutely breathtaking Camphill Kimberton, three hundred and forty acres' worth proof that nature is more beautiful and graceful than man can ever attempt to create
Taken up residence in the Farm House
Felt right at home, 7000 miles away from mine.