I take the wheel into my own hands
The world around me is becoming completely quiet, as if it is holding its breath. I am standing right before a restart, somewhere between excitement and calm, between panic and “Oh my God – I’m living the dream.” The certainty that I actually followed through, that I quit my job and am now about to roll the dice and start over. I carry no fixed plan within me. Yes, I have certain places I am heading to, but no destination for where all of this will lead me and what it will bring. Maybe the goal is to put myself back together piece by piece. Like the Japanese art of Kintsugi, where broken pieces of ceramic are carefully reassembled into something new and the cracks are then covered with gold. In its philosophy, Kintsugi is much more than just a repair technique; it is a special way of celebrating imperfections and flaws, highlighting them, and giving the broken piece a new and greater value. The cracks are not defects; beauty does not lie in perfection. The broken pieces shine – the scars tell a story and make the vessel more valuable than before. Scars and wounds are not hidden, but integrated as valuable and visible marks of life. Every experience – every break – every scar makes us unique. Maybe what I am doing now is my very own act of Kintsugi. I am putting myself back together – with golden lines made of courage, love, and trust.
Sometimes I catch myself thinking: “Am I actually allowed to do this? Am I allowed to start over again? Do I even have the right to do all of this? Am I allowed to stand up for myself and take the wheel of my own life?” I let myself be guided – by expectations, people, the system, society – I was a passenger in my own life. I functioned, adapted, played my roles, and made sure not to become a burden to anyone, but instead to make things comfortable for the people around me. But I have realized: No one is coming to save me. If I want to change my life, I have to take the wheel myself. It takes courage to change direction. Courage to say no where you have made yourself small for too long. Courage to give yourself permission to be happy, without justification, without excuses, without guilt. I do not have to prove anything to myself, and I do not have to earn the right to be happy. I am simply allowed to leave, to start over, to find, to discover, and to laugh. This journey is not a vacation, nor is it an escape; it is a journey back to myself, to a part of me that I have suppressed, pushed aside, and ignored for far too long. I am ready – ready to let go – to let go of what no longer belongs to me. I am ready – ready to follow my own path. To allow myself my own happiness. To choose myself.
A few days from now, I will board a plane heading towards the sun. To Bali, where I will begin my yoga teacher training and perhaps learn more about myself than about the poses on the mat. A place where stillness and movement meet. After that, Africa awaits me – horses, vast landscapes, dust, sun, wind, and wilderness. I will ride, help, live, connect with nature, feel the earth beneath me, and immerse myself in different rhythms. I will meet people who live differently, feel differently, and perhaps recognize parts of myself in their stories.
And somewhere in between – between arriving and moving on – I simply want to be. To learn not to hold on, but to feel. I want to allow myself to make mistakes, to laugh, to doubt, to fail, to dance, and to stay curious. To learn to love myself, to rediscover myself, to experience who I truly am, not who I am supposed to be. To no longer be afraid of being too much or not enough. The journey is a step into the unknown, but it is a step in my own direction.
I do not know where I will end up. But I do know that I am the one choosing the direction. I do not know what awaits me. I do know that I am ready – ready to let myself be carried by the journey without losing myself.
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