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This post is more of a reflective piece, so proceed with that in mind. I’ve got those end-of-the-season feels and they’re begging to be let out.

I feel like I’ve been swirling along a figurative river this entire year, flowing with the currents and enjoying that whole damn wild ride. I reckon it’d be the type of river that you’d find in North Idaho, with some solid rapids and adrenaline-pumping obstacles but nothing too worrisome. Enough to take you by surprise but not throw you out of your seat. The best kind of river.

There was a lot of personal growth this year. A lot of learning about how to relinquish control and leave the planning to the Universe. Life is way less stressful that way, I’ve come to realize. Even in the moments where I recognize anxiety’s clenching pulse in my veins and my mind, I know that it’s temporary and I can let that shit go.

The start of 2019 was weird and stressful. I was in Kaikoura, cruising through my second season as a dolphin swim guide. I was enjoying the dolphins, my friends, the summertime surf and feels of the coastal town that I fell in love with the year before. But something wasn’t right, and I was antsy. I constantly wanted to be away on a road trip or in Christchurch or lost somewhere in the mountains. This type of same-as-last-year cruising wasn’t cutting it. Something was lacking.

On one of my many weekends away, I remember hanging out at my friend Will’s house in Blenheim. I was sitting down with a cup of tea and feeling good about this mini vacay when I opened my e-mail and read the “sorry, but nah” e-mail from the U.S. Fulbright Commission regarding a grant application I had submitted three months earlier. I had worked so hard for that entire prior summer applying for a study grant that would’ve funded a graduate program in Marine Environmental Protection in the U.K. That was also Fulbright application number four for me. I was no stranger to the process, and having gone through it so many times, this fourth rejection really stung. A lot. It had been my overwhelming optimism that prodded me to spend four application seasons tailoring essays to please committees of people I would never even meet. I told myself, “This next one will be better. I just need to tweak my essay a bit. One more time. Just try one more time. This will all be worth it.”

Then, after four attempts, I decided I was done. My zest had died out.

That e-mail was a hard one to read. After a good salty eye cleanse, I took a deep breath, made cup of tea number two, and my friend Maxx and I went about our day as planned and spent our sunshiney Sunday at Will’s family’s bach near Picton. We boated and chilled. I tried to keep things in perspective, enjoying a good day around good people.

And then the weekend ended, and it was back to my life in Kaikoura, and back to the drawing board. With no more illusion of graduate school hovering in the back of my mind as my “next step” for after NZ, I felt I had to think more and more about an alternative. I slipped back into that scary, all-too-familiar Lauren headspace where the self-inflicted pressure and disappointment that hitchhikes on my shoulders seems to weigh more than the humpback whales I adore so much. Back to more job applications. More contemplation over what could be next for me. I wondered if it would be a summer back home? Whale watching in Monterey? Nature Conservancy in Hawaii? Time off to prep more grad school applications? Or…to try for work in Tonga?

After a few days of solo walks blasting sad songs in my headphones and walking to the Kaikoura lookout (no better place to contemplate your place in this Universe), my flatmates did an amazing job of helping me put things in perspective. “Something good will come of this.” Fi convinced me to apply for jobs in Tonga after her holiday there last year, and that’s what led me here for the season. The way things have unfolded since those applications were sent in has completely taken my breath away. There were challenges. A lot of them. There were mind-blowing wildlife encounters. There were many good-hearted, genuine people that I met who proceeded to fill my heart with that kind of love that you pull out of the depths of your soul whenever you’re feeling lonely, long after those people have gone from your life. There were beautiful islands. There were daily coconuts, dirty ass feet, salty skin, zinc-smudged cheeks and noses. And a LOT of flies and mosquitos. This is Tonga.

2019 was way different than my 2018-self expected. Life lesson? Have fun imagining, scheming, and planning for the future, but always dive headfirst into what’s happening now and allow yourself to enjoy the outcomes, unexpected or not. That’s life. That’s the flow.

Here I am, at the end of the whale season, doing that reflecting thang I’ve been doing since I started writing in my journal at age seven. I’d like to think I’ve come a long way since my first entry, in which I wrote about my wish to be able to turn into a tiger whenever I wanted. But let’s be honest…I still am tripping and falling head over heels in love with the total empowerment that comes with the realization that if you truly want something, you can do it. Hell, I bet I could turn into a tiger right now if I wanted it badly enough. There’s all sorts of hallucinogenics out there for that, right? Hah.

Rawr.

But anyway, what about my figurative tiger? I’m going sailing! Hey-o, I’m going to be sailing back down to New Zealand with an awesome crew of people from the US of A and Aus. More on that in a later post.

I just wanted to quickly drop some inspiration bombs for you. Follow your shiny things. Notice the glimmering things that capture your attention. Feel your emotions, but recognize them as just that - emotions. Let them go once you’ve acknowledged them. Keep doing. Just keep doing.

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