It’s
November 8 as I am writing this column. And I am having flashbacks to the same
date 5 years ago. The day that I moved from Amsterdam to Turkey, for the love
of my life. I remember that my best friend and I went to a concert that night,
just a few hours before my flight. She got tickets for Volkan Konak, a Turkish
folks singer, and his song ‘yarim yarim’ will somehow forever be connected to
this particular time and place in my life. We had to skip the last 10 minutes
of the concert to make it to the airport on time. It was past midnight already.
I remember the goodbyes from my dear friends and the kind man at custom
services who asked me if I were alright. The blurred Schiphol by night view
from my little airplane window, because of the rain and the tears. Sad and
happy tears, all mixed up, tasting salty and sweet. That was the night that I
flew into the first sunrise of my new life. The night that I cut some
significant roots that I had grown over the past years and had become attached
to. The night that home changed from
a place into a person.
Another
thing that I will never forget is what had brought me to this particular point
in life. It wasn’t a rational decision or a calculated one, based on the pro’s
and con’s of who should make the move. Neither was it a desperate one, based on
running high emotions. No, it wasn’t
even a decision at all when you think of it. It was more like an insight, like
a knowing. A silent, unexpected knowing, coming from out of nowhere, filling my
inner self the way a perfume fills the air. Subtle yet unmistakably.
The ‘should
I move to Alanya’ question had been on my mind for quite a while back then. And
I just didn’t know what to do. At first I was afraid that I might regret it.
Afraid that I might be giving up too much in return for it. So I asked myself
what to do over and over again. I listened to other people’s opinions and I
searched for signs. For a breadcrumb trail of any kind that would lead me into
the right direction.
And then,
one day, the answer came, word for word, written down by Elif Shafak in her
wonderful book ‘The Forty Rules of Love’. We had just published the book at
Penguin Books and my colleague had reserved me a copy. I came to a passage in the book where Shams
of Tabriz says the following:
“Fret not where the road will take you.
Instead concentrate on the first step. That’s the hardest part and that’s what
you are responsible for. Once you take that step let everything do what it
naturally does and the rest will follow. Do not go with the flow. Be the flow”.
It was as
if this particular part had been written just for me. As if the letters and
words bounced right off the page and penetrated every single cell of my being. Focus on the first step and nothing else.
I could do that. I could just move. I
could go and be where my heart wants me to be. Without considering all the what
if’s and all the possible consequences. Everything else would need to do what
it naturally does. And I will be a part of it. I will be flow with it. And so
that’s how I came to live here. By trusting these wise words that I still live
by and my inner voice. I took the first step, and everything else worked out
for itself in ways far, far better than I could ever plan or expect myself.
Yes, there are hiccups and struggles included, because how could they not be.
But no regrets. Not even one. Just flow.
