About a week ago I had a dream that I was walking outside my old house by the sea. Everything was silent and I could feel the breeze coming off the ocean. I think my father was with me; he always loved that house. Anyway we started to walk away from the house until the sand on the streets turned to dirt and the dirt into grassy hills. Suddenly I looked around and we were surrounded by mountains of beautiful green. In the distance I could see little white shapes milling about.
When I woke up I knew where I needed to go. I did some research and found a website that connects people all across the world who travel from place to place assisting at various homes, farms, bed and breakfasts, etc.
I wanted to find a farm stay in the countryside of Ireland, but due to the nature of the work most of hosts ask for helpers to come in pairs. Since I’m doing this alone, that clearly isn’t an option for me. But I found a family in Malahide, a town just north of Dublin, that needs someone to help with looking after the children and the house. In exchange I would get free meals, my own room, and of course in my free time I could do whatever I please.
Well I spoke with the host family on Monday, Tuesday night I bought my plane ticket, and Sunday night I’m flying to Dublin. Last week I had no idea what to do with myself. Now I’m leaving for Ireland in less than three days. And I haven’t booked a ticket back.
The neurotic in me is saying, “You’re crazy. What the fuck? What the fuck!”
But if I focus hard enough I can tune it out. That’s when I hear a soft and divine voice saying, “No. This is the most perfect thing you’ve ever done. Go with it.” It’s rooted so deep in me that it often gets drowned out. But it’s the voice I’m trying to follow.
