As a kid, Pinkeltje was a book to always be found on my bedside table, in my school bag––a pop of yellow I carried with me at all times. Full of tales and adventures of a brave gnome, Pinkeltje jumped from one place to the next. Without a plan nor a destination, he would make up the way as he went, traveling light, a gush of wind transporting him into the next chapter.
To me, the wind represented a gentle push, provided direction, and acted as a guide that helped end one story in order to move on to the next. It was a clever literary tool, like an enjambment that disrupts the system in place by letting a sentence escape out of its prison as it enters a new line. As I grabbed my MP3 player, I would turn on Walking in the Air and dream of that sense of freedom––of the wind taking me far away, no luggage, no goodbyes.
Of course, Pinkeltje was only a little guy, just the slightest breeze would bring him far away, but what about me? Tall by design, the Dutch rather harsh wind took my dreams away instead...
Most humans, in my dictionary, are by nature place bound. They grow up in a familiar environment and often can either not see beyond the system they themselves have created or, even if they do, do not dare to step outside. I, on the contrary, was dealt an unfortunate hand since birth as all I could see was beyond the picket fence. Like Alice looking through the looking glass, these poor children tend to stick to their books that give them a glimpse of worlds outside their own, telling themselves that when they're old enough they'll too disappear, taken (voluntarily) by the wind. That is how I grew up thinking of all the things I would do rather than appreciating what I had.
Now, I am standing at a crossroads, an intersection with a choice to make. How I wish that wind was here, just to give me some sort of sign. I have enough umbrellas to get me off my feet but something is holding me back, pulling me down every time I try to jump up.
My luggage. My books that have grown so dear to me, my journals that visualised the places I'd go to, my music player that helped me dream, my apartment that treasured all of it and kept them safe. My dreams are now my chains, and the wind demands a toll.
A new journey does not just wash over you, much like a new place is not just a jump in the deep where you let the water do the work for you. It is a tornado, where the moment you jump on board you have to let it destroy everything you have built up in order for you to move forward––you have to let go.
Over the years I'd prepared myself for leaving, making sure I did not have any luggage like Pinkeltje, nothing to hold me back. Only now do I realise how valuable those dreams are to me, how I started clinging to them as if they made up my entire identity. 'To leave' became my destination, and quite a heavy burden to carry.
The choice I have to make now also means letting part of that dream go, something I did not account for. Transformation does not have a clear destination, you have to accept the chaos when the wind takes you but make sure to come back down, much like Pinkeltje for that matter. I wanna say trust the process but honestly, it all depends on you.
I talked about office life and the fact that I might have to go back in an earlier post, and a commenter mentioned 'the hero's journey'. I could not help but compare. The office has never been part of any hero's journey, there is no excitement to be found in any paperwork or computer screens. Yet, it does give opportunity to fly to a new place. Although not ideal, it is a breath of fresh air, air that potentially could become stronger...
The hero's journey in itself is a transformative process, and Pinkeltje's stories one by one transform him, willingly or unwillingly. It is not about following all the steps of that dream, it is about grasping and holding on to its core for dear life, and trying to trust (if you have) some sort of intuition that wherever you'll land you'll still have that core, even if parts of it have been destroyed in the process. It's not an easy ride.
Long story short, I have the chance to 'leave' but the price I'll have to pay will be from being outofoffice to becoming intheoffice. With outofoffice even being my profile name, it feels like giving up part of my identity, and it makes me reluctant to jump and get taken by the wind. But who knows where I'll land right. No one, not even Pinkeltje, can prepare you for that.