The absence of wind

My allergies in Granada woke me up in the middle of every night, for a month.

My apartment in Tokyo was the size of a freshman dorm room, complete with lofted bed.

Frozen rain pelted my face nearly every dark winter day in Berlin.

And yet, after a year of living outside the U.S., my favorite cities were Granada, Tokyo, Berlin. These annoyances live on only in the journal I kept. In my memories, I hear flamenco at midnight, I taste ostrich sashimi with Joe at an izakaya, I dodge the brilliant blasts of New Years Eve fireworks detonated by children in Mauerpark, I celebrate in a supernova.

When planning for the future, we spend time and worry searching for ‘ideal’ conditions, as if the slightest wind will knock us from our perch.

It turns out, the anticipation of hassle is far more painful than the hassle itself.

Aim toward thrill, toward beauty, toward passion, toward peace; do not aim toward the absence of wind.

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