Choices. Good. Bad. Right. Wrong. It's easy to say we have choices when it comes to life. The word itself has the connotation of always associating with good and bad. But choices is a word that I find that limits myself. I don't make choices, I find opportunities to better who I am as a person. The word opportunities allows one to grow. Each opportunity building off each other into a sequence that creates the life of productivity and happiness. People ask me, "What made you want to Teach in Spain?" I chose to answer with, "The opportunities of working in another country while connecting my career of working children in the classroom enables me to further access opportunities down the road. Also having the ability to travel to one of the most amazing areas of the world; full of history, culture, and people. I want to see life abroad but also experience it in raw form."
I, myself have often truly struggled with finding ways to better myself. For the first time in my life I can honestly say that I've stepped out of my comfort zone. I found a thread that I often pushed back into my sleeve of life. I never felt the urge to pull it or find a means of cutting it. After being so comfortable with it there for so long I often forgot about it. But as I continued to move through my life; the thread started expanding with opportunities, shrinking with struggles of being who I am. That thread no longer was able to be tucked back into my sleeve. It was out, worked over, split with emotions, sometimes tickling me but often rubbing to an itch, and there was no longer comfort with keeping it there.
I took this opportunity to pull that thread, the strand of comforts that made up who I was in life. I found myself no longer comfortable with the opportunities that I had in my life. It was easy to maintain them and appreciate them for what they were. But there was a lack of movement. Lack of pace. After pulling and moving that thread I knew I wasn't happy with where I was. As the thread started to unravel I no longer saw a prestige manufactured sleeve of life. It unraveled, it pulled, it flowed into the air. I found a clean, gentle, warm skinned surface underneath that was untouched from the opportunities that life had to hold.
I found the opportunity of a lifetime while staring at the bare nakedness of skin I, a licensed educator could stick in the traditional way of teaching in a classroom and earning tenur. That was the easy way and the most comfortable. But why should I be comfortable with just that? The opportunities stood still for what I really wanted to do. That opportunity stares back to me as a blank canvas. Unaffected by life, unchanged for the good or the bad. But saw it as a canvas, as which a way a tattoo artist would see to create a beautiful masterpiece of colors, definition, and something meaningful. I found that as my clean canvas, my world no longer covered by something that often tickle and itched away at me. It was opened as an opportunity to make something new and beautiful for my life.
I wanted to find ways to enrich my life and those around me especially my future students. I found opportunity out in the world that many chose not to seek. Here I find myself here in a plane, thousands of feet in the air, drinking a red wine as the sun glistens into my window. Near a man who was just a stranger just moments ago, who just took the opportunity to ask what I was doing traveling. I spoke honestly and truthful in which he took interest to hear about a dream that I only had shared with a few. His attentiveness gave me the awakening of my dream becoming a reality.
Here I am one month into Spain. One month ago this original post created. While rereading, feeling the same sense of which I felt that day. My life in Madrid is full of stories, emotions, laughter, tears, memories, friends, and an awakening to what life is and where I want to be. My first post being one of many, with me reflecting and appreciating the life I live.
Dreamer. Lost in the moment.
Podunk Wyoming native, living and thriving in Madrid. Lover of Craft beer and art.