Settling Into A New Rhythm

I am dreaming about moving to Maine so I can have a duck on my license plate

Wolfe’s Neck Woods State Park – Freeport, ME

I was in Maine for not even a full 24 hours when I started telling everyone who’d listen that I was planning on moving from New York City. I said it with full conviction, no doubt in my mind that my big city life is over and Maine is the next place for me. They say when you know, you know, I’d exclaim – old friends replying to my stories, baristas, the random person (also from New York) eating Khao Soi next to me at The Honey Paw. In those first few days away from the hustle and bustle of New York, I felt my body exhale for the first time in a really long time.

It’s been a few days since returning from my three week road trip through New England. I tried writing to you while I was on the road but all I wanted to do was sit outside and stare at the waves crashing by, or eat another lobster roll, or lay in the hammock outside my tiny cabin, or head to the farmer’s market and talk to locals about what it’s like to live in their coastal town. I meandered through 12 or so towns throughout New Hampshire, Maine, Rhode Island, and Connecticut (don’t worry – Vermont is saved for its own trip) and fell in love with the way life is up in New England. Maybe I got spoiled with the near perfect early September weather, or maybe I finally saw a glimpse into a way of life I had been dreaming about – one that my soul has been calling me towards for some time. Whatever it was, I know I want more of it.

After months of seeing nothing but fog when my mind drifts off into the daydream of my future, it was jolting to experience a crystal clear vision of what could be. It felt good to experience something and say yes, I want more of this. Not even halfway through the trip I caught myself telling a friend, “I’d leave my entire life in Brooklyn today if I could move here tomorrow.” “But don’t you love your life in Brooklyn?,” she replied. “Of course, that’s the problem.”

As someone who spent the majority of her life searching for a feeling of belonging – searching for a place that feels like home – I always have my eyes open for a place that could be more well suited for me. I’ve had my sights on Maine for a while, so I wasn’t surprised when I did all of the things that make me feel at home (yoga, farmers market, quaint coffee shop, etc.) and really did feel at home. I knew I’d love it. I knew it would be beautiful and the food would be delicious. I knew but I didn’t expect how deeply it would feel right in my bones. 

I’ve been in this situation before – whether it’s thinking a new place is going to solve all of your problems and discomforts, or clinging on to the idea of a person you just met, or fantasizing about the potential of the job listing you saw on LinkedIn. It’s easy to see something that’s new and shiny and not yet experienced and place all of your attention on dropping everything and getting that thing. Focusing solely on attaining that specific outcome rather than taking the time to understand the thing beneath the thing; why that and not something else?

(I’ve learned that instead of attaching your sights onto the next thing that will finally solve all of your problems, it’s helpful to take a bit of time to pinpoint the root of the yearning, only then you’ll shine a light on the original misalignment rather than placing a bandaid over it. The same discomfort, or a similar problem/craving for more will inevitably come out of hiding as soon as your new life suddenly becomes normal again.)

Lobster Roll & Blueberry Pie from The Maine Lobster Lady – Sargentville, ME

The rest of my trip was filled with some of the most beautiful nature I’ve ever witnessed – moments of awe around every corner. I hiked, I walked, I stared at the boats passing by the horizon. I caught up with friends, new and old. I ate blueberry pie while staring up at the stars, clear as day, above me. I slept in cabins with no electricity or plumbing (I loved it). I ate two of the best breakfast sandwiches of my life.

It’s funny – It took me driving over 400 miles North, 9 hours from the place I call home to a tiny off grid cabin in the middle of a meadow and nothing else to realize just how uninspired I had been in my normal life. It took me stepping so far out of my daily routine to recognize what hasn’t been working. When I was in it, I could feel the disconnect but couldn’t articulate it. I knew the pace and way in which I was living my life wasn’t working but I didn’t know how to get out of that cycle. 

I thrive in a city. I thrive in a fast paced, always moving way of life. It feels intoxicating. It feels alluring and sexy and like the thing I am supposed to want. But for the past few months, I’ve known I can’t sustain it for much longer. Driving through rural New Hampshire and Coastal Maine, I saw a glimpse into a life that could be possible for me. 

A life in communion with the land.

A life with more opportunity for solitude. 

A life that moves slower, more simply, but with greater intention. 

Half Moon Valley Homestead – Swanville, ME

This way of being reminded me that I don’t always need to be running. I don’t always need to be doing. I am allowed to stay put. I can allow the change to come without trying to force my hand at controlling it.

While I was staying at The Hermit’s Cabin, I’d catch myself cycling through all of the things I could should the next day: swimming, exploring the town down the road, hiking, shopping, doing doing doing doing doing. I was at a place designed for rest and introspection but my mind could not stop. It could not fathom the idea of not “making the most” out of the moment in front of me. 

So, in an effort to stay in integrity with the intention of this hermitage, I decided to stay put. I let myself be. I let myself rest. I let myself exist without trying to prove my existence to the world. Tomorrow would come and I would inevitably jump into action but for right now, I let myself be in the moment. 

As if it were the exact medicine I needed, after a day or so of doing nothing but lounging around, I began to receive subtle insights and downloads about the lessons from this trip and a vision for the future of my life. As soon as I stopped trying to figure it all out, the answers made their way to me. Once I gave myself the time and space to do nothing but be, I felt called to action. The inspiration and clarity that had strayed so far away had finally returned and I didn’t need to do anything to find it. 

By the end of my trip, I was ready to return to my life in Brooklyn. It wasn’t that I stopped feeling certain that I was meant to move to Maine but I was eager to integrate the lessons learned into my normal life. I now feel empowered to take what I learned throughout this road trip and challenge myself to prove that the good feelings I felt had little to do with the place but more to do with how I interacted with the place. What if everyday could feel this good, no matter where I am?, I ponder.

It’s easy for our brains to jump to the next thing – to cling onto the idea that something or someone is going to save us. It’s easy but it’s lazy. It takes work to discern when it’s time to move on, when it’s time to stay put, and how to use the glimpses of a “better” life as fuel for the life in front of you. As I step back into my normal life, I am doing so with intention and insight. I see what was no longer working, I felt what does work and I am going to try my very hardest to use that information to move forward with greater intention. For me, this looks like

Using the experience of the past three weeks; one that cracked my heart wide open and opened my eyes to a new vision for the vision of my future, I now have more information to move forward in my Brooklyn life. I am prioritizing things like my health, eating seasonally, spending time in nature, spending less time attached to a schedule (all things that felt effortless on this time) so that little by little, I move forward into the life I am envisioning.

Snapshots from New Hampshire, Maine, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. Memories that will be cherished in my heart forever <3

I say all of this to you as a reminder to myself because I already find myself daydreaming about having a duck on my license plate and falling in love with someone who has a farm and can shuck me oysters (I think I might be able to find that in NYC). I am excited by the idea of packing up everything and starting over but I am trying my very hardest to stay put. Not to ignore the insight from my intuition, but to see this chapter through. As I slowly wind down my big city life, I continue to gather information about what works for me and what doesn’t. I will take that with me wherever I go next – if and when that may be. As I have said for the past four years of moving from place to place every few months: I trust that I will know when it is time to leave and where to go next. It will be clear as day, no hesitation. Until then, I will enjoy where I am to the fullest extent. There’s no need to rush to the next moment when this moment has not yet passed. It will come. Trust that it will come. Slow down, rest, let yourself savor this moment. 

As we move into the season of fall, consider the practices, habits, and tools that supported you throughout the summer and what may need to shift as we move into the colder months. 

1. Think about your root system. What keeps you grounded? What do you stand for? What structures will support you as you move into a more inward, reflective season?

2. Think about the changing leaves. What is currently being transformed in your life? What do you want to hold onto and take with you into hibernation? What needs to be let go?

3. Think about wind. How do you hold up with sudden changes or disruptions? What are the rituals/routines/practices that support you standing steady? What needs to be disrupted in your life? 

4. And finally, since we are in the season of gratitude: what are you most grateful for in this season of life?

For more reflection to support the transition from summer to fall, check out my seasonal recalibration guide.

Seasonal Recalibration Guide: Fall 2023

The Book Barn – Niantic, CT

• Months and months and months ago, I pre-ordered Slowing by

  Rachel Schwartzmann
  and it arrived right before I returned from my trip. It felt like the perfect welcome home gift, encouraging me to continue towards a path of slow living.

• One of my favorite environments is being surrounded by books. Whenever I travel, I make a point to wander into any bookstore I can find. On this trip, I discovered two of the most unique bookstores – Pushcart Press World’s Smallest Bookstore located in Sedgwick, ME (a quaint 9x12 ft, honor system roadside shack book “store” with the most gorgeous views) and The Book Barn in Niantic, CT (feels like Narnia for book lovers with countless shelves and shacks dedicated to niche genres of used and rare books. I could have spent all day here!)

• I am inspired to approach NYC like a tourist. Or rather, step out of my little Greenpoint bubble. While I love the routine of my normal, not traveling life, I’ve found it can quickly feel stagnant. I feel most invigorated by the process of exploration and discovery – and New York has so much to explore. With this awareness, I want to encourage myself to step out of my comfort zone and find the beauty in this place I call home. 

• I made a batch of fire cider and homemade chai concentrate this week…so basically I am ready to run my own homestead.

• I no longer wish to be held within the rigid confines of a tight schedule. The greatest area of ease throughout my trip was being on my own schedule, which meant no schedule. I am someone who prides myself in being timely, and I don’t see that changing. Instead of rushing from one thing to the next, the next few months will be an exploration into operating at a different pace, a different approach. Instead of trying to fit everything in, I will commit to fewer things and leave space for more meandering, more opportunity, more flow. I do not want to feel rushed. I will get everything done at my own pace. I will let the hustle and bustle of NYC pass me by as I stop in awe of the changing colors of the leaves, or the glimmers of the sun’s reflection off the tall building. Just because everyone else is moving quickly, does not mean I have to try to keep up.

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