MetaSoma

One thing nobody tells you about living right by the ocean is how loud it is.

The consistent hum of waves crashing against rock.

I could never have imagined living this close to the water, with uninterrupted views of the sea, my favourite thing in the whole world. Who could have imagined such a thing?

Month 2 of living in Korea and I spent this month in the port city of Busan.

I seem to have an affinity for port cities. I have a deep resonance for what they represent. Cities shaped by migration, movement, meeting points, trade and travel. Places where people, cultures, stories and histories have continually crossed paths.

Being here has inspired what I’ve been reflecting on this month: land as a witness.

It holding not just what happened there, but also something of how those experiences have shaped us. Traces of our personal stories, identities, histories and memories.

Iron Kingdom. Unified dynasty. Japanese occupation. American military presence. Impoverished wartime years. Rapid industrialisation and modernisation.

And within all of that are the personal stories of everyday life.

I can’t even imagine, let alone fathom, what has been shared between this land and all those who have lived on it, travelled through it and passed by.

As I retrace those footsteps, I’m left reflecting on what has grown from these stories and how they have come to influence what I’m seeing and experiencing right now.

Because our relationship with land is never one-directional.

We leave something of ourselves in places, while places leave something in us. We take experiences, meanings and memories from a place, while also leaving behind our own presence, stories and traces.

I’ve been reflecting on the idea of ‘finding your place in the world’, something that has become a bit of a theme of this page. The themes of ‘home’, the spaces in between, and finding ways to transmute our struggles into meaning.

For the past month, I’ve been living in South Korea, and it’s been a cultural shock. Korea has a very obvious, felt sense of cultural homogeneity, and as a foreigner, you clearly stand out.

The question, ‘Where do I fit in this world?’ comes up strongly these days. I’m feeling something of an alien being here, despite the fact that I truly do love and enjoy this place.

The days go by so quickly and with such ease, filled with the normal things you do in life: grocery shopping, laundry, cooking meals, going to the gym, and doing a bit of work.

All the ordinary moments wrapped around the deeper contemplations of what’s to come next.

And yet, everything is always changing, constantly, despite where I am in the world.

Stay anywhere long enough, and even somewhere completely foreign eventually develops a sameness of its own.

And perhaps that’s what home becomes. Not a fixed place, but the small, ordinary moments that give us a sense of familiarity in a world that is always changing.

This morning’s moody, soft but strong, shapely practice 🌀❤️‍🔥

Completed my first Vipassana silent retreat. 12 days in total, with 10 of those in silence. Long days, 4am til 9:30pm. 8–9 hours of meditation. No talking, no phone, no outside communication. Just dedicated time to observe, reflect and contemplate.

A few people have asked about my experience, and I can honestly say it was deeply impactful. I feel a shift like there’s a clearer path forward.

Before the retreat, over the past couple of years, I often found myself this connection-disconnection loop. Cycles of knowing and then forgetting. Moments of feeling deeply connected to the world then spiral into confusion and feelings of being lost and alone.

Having now experienced Vipassana for myself, I leave with a depth of clarity and peace I haven’t accessed in this way before. And although there is still a long road ahead, I feel I’ve gained enough to understand how I need to walk it.

There has always been a strong drive in me to stay connected to myself, to my body as an anchor for moving through the world. This experience has really illuminated that path forward. More than ever, I feel called to stay with the present moment with reality, sensations and truth. So that I do not fall into chasing false façades, illusions or untrue stories that only creates more misery and ignorance.

I leave this retreat having experienced a small but real taste of peace, love and compassion. Enough to want to keep going. And whatever little peace, love, and joy I’ve touched, it’s my hope that you too may share in it and experience it for yourself.

Love always,
CL

Words by Richard Tarnas to bring you comfort.

Figuring life out, doesn’t come from thinking more. you understand it by becoming more fully engaged, aware, and open in every part of yourself. to feel it, live it and experience it fully.

I sometimes have this fantasy where I am standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and with two hands I toss my phone and laptop over the edge. Then disappear. Never to be seen again.

I won’t do it (for obvious reasons) but I do want to be more mindful about how often I reach for my phone.

As someone who struggle with doomscrolling and who has a ‘hot and cold’ relationship with sharing online. It’s easy to believe that the problem is my phone or social media itself. To fall into the idea that there are only two choices: full isolation or fully connected.

But there are other ways.
Congruent ways.
Ways to find balance without vanishing.

And in an era of algorithmic performance, stepping away can feel risky. Like I might lose momentum. Or fall behind.

And still, there are plenty of people living full, meaningful lives outside this space. Maybe I will be okay too.

I will be okay to step away. To rest. To let my creativity breathe. To gather my energy again, so that when I return, I can show up more presently and give more fully.

Where am I?
Time has a way of becoming distorted when you live far away from home. Feeling like I am living across different time zones. Present in one, thinking in another.

Calls with my family in Australia.
Voice notes exchange from a friend in LA.
Group chats with the cuzzies in NZ.

Fighting extra hard to stay present when being pulling so many directions.

Finding myself asking, where is my body? What pieces of myself have I left scattered somewhere…
Where is my heart? Where is my mind?

What am I doing? What do I really want? What am I building? To which point will I ever be satisfied and happy?

Retracing my steps like crumbs left behind.

In some case, all it takes is just a moment to pause and slow down, to bring you back to where your feet are.

Learning that the answers don’t matter as much as the questions. That staying awake to it all might be the gift. Not chasing contentment, but feeling every aspect of this experience. Every ache, every joy, every unknown, deeply and bravely.

Slow December in Morocco. Resting and reflecting. Soul-nourishing cups of tea. Long breakfasts. Big bags of orange gifted on our doorsteps. And marvelling a simples joys and beauty of the life.

Over the past year, I’ve kept note of the potent lessons and nuggets of treasure I’ve come to find. Through a year of slow travel across continents, navigating the complexity of living life in unfamiliar places, I’ve found myself closer to a truer version of who I am and what actually matters. Beyond the safety and security of home, the false illusions of what I think should matter slip away, replaced by a deeper knowing of what truly does.

Finding a rhythm to move with life. Handwritten letters to friends. Nourishing my body with love. Creating. Practising consistency. Practising vulnerability. Keeping my word. Resting. Writing. And being a better wife, daughter, sister, and friend.

Some days, I still forget… caught in the hum of wanting, the chase of all I think I should do and all I think I must have. But then, I remember again.

Hoping that, with more time, the forgetting shortens and the remembering stretches wider