The last day before my 29th Birthday

As I said to a friend the other day, I look at my twenty-ninth birthday with a sense of nostalgia. I think thirty will be a new beginning, somehow related to my past because I had to go through my past to get to thirty, but also something completely novel, where I can encounter life with the knowledge and wisdom I have acquired from past experiences and therefore with a sense of serenity I could not tap into before.

Twenty-nine, however, is like a yearlong goodbye to my twenties. What will I do this year? What can I do this year to be sure to leave my twenties with as much pomp and circumstance as I entered them? How can I say goodbye to my twenties in the most appropriate manner, being truer to the adult I have become, than the eager and inexperienced teenager I was entering them? I once watched a video on not letting yourself be fooled that your twenties are not important. Well I’m not sure I did the most I could with them, but this past year I know I’ve done much more for myself than I have in all my twenties combined, including a trip around the world for a year, that perhaps most outsiders would see as the pinnacle of my twenties.

Oddly enough, although this trip was of course one of the most incredible experiences in my life so far, I feel that my 28th year has been my best learning experience to date. Which right on cue, as usual, seems to concur quite nicely with writer Pico Iyer’s latest TED talk on “The Art of Stillness”. He promotes that “going nowhere” and taking the time to meditate and remain in one place, disconnected from the internet, the phone, the television and any other polluting distractions, can help us reconnect with our inner voice, to listen to what it says, to what it is telling us about our true desires and what we really want out of life, that we cannot otherwise figure out when we are constantly running from one meeting, one job, one friend, one airplane or train to another.

Last year on this day I moved into my very own apartment for the first time in my life. I have been paying my rent on time and alone for a whole year now. I know that many other people around me have been doing this for a lot longer than I have, but I’m still proud of myself. I work in the film industry and coming by money is not the easiest business when you’re first starting out, so I’m really proud that I’ve managed to make ends meet every time so far.

Not only have I managed to make ends meet, but I’ve also traveled to three distant countries. In March I went to visit my parents in Beijing, China, where I took three weeks to straighten out a lot of issues I had with them and needed to deal with in order to move forwards with my life and have a better relationship with them.

In June, I went to Montreal, Canada to visit one of my closest friends and finally see for myself the city she has elected her home for the past 10 years, and a country she has recently become a citizen of. I have renewed my friendship with her and feel as though these newly created memories with her are here to fuel our connection for the next decade should we not have a chance to see each other before then (although I highly doubt this).

Finally my last big trip of the year, and perhaps the most overwhelming was my trip back to Japan in October. I had not been home to Tokyo in five years, I was returning alone to the country I grew up in. My family was no longer there, so I’d have to stay in a foreign house with the parents of my brother’s friend. I was also returning to meet with high school classmates I had not seen in ten years. To say the least, this trip was a sort of pilgrimage to my past. I realized many things while I was there. Up until this trip, I was persuaded that Japan was a country I had to come to terms with. A beautiful memory of my past I had to put to rest, that I was going back to, to say goodbye one last time. But nothing of the sort happened. I thought I’d be crying my eyes out every time I’d touch, smell, hear and taste anything, knowing it would be the last time. But instead I was elated; elated to realize that in my heart I know I will be returning to the motherland. And come February I will be setting the gears in motion to make this a reality by applying for the JET program to teach English in Japan for at least one year. I realize now that I needed to go back to know that my ties with the country will never be a thing of the past. I will carry this country in my heart forever, because it is part of who I am, whether people can see it or not.

If I had not been living on my own in my little 18m2 nest perched on the 6th floor of a Parisian building, I probably would have not come to the conclusion that these were the three big trips I had to make this year. One was for my family. One was for friendship. And the last one was for me. As Marcel Proust said “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” I have been applying this to my life in Paris. Although I have been living in this city for ten years now, this is the very first time I have been here on purpose, trying to accomplish something that granted, is still not always clear even to myself, but I have been doing it with a new set of eyes which have been helping me accomplish quite a few extraordinary feats this year.

To name a few, this year…

I have become an independent production manager where I produced two music videos, two commercials, assisted on an incredible culinary/travel show that enabled me to taste foods at Paul Bocuse and Les Trois Gros, directed two short films on the importance of culture and a documentary on the world-renowned public-speaking club, Toastmasters. I wrote four screenplays, finished one and had it read by several people who said it was promising.

I set up a blog, and even though I’m not posting regularly, I’m still posting. I’ve written a short story and several essays. I’m currently writing a children’s story on love. I’ve read several self-improvement books on creativity, passion, efficiency, learning, art, and hundreds of articles on spirituality, positivism, energy and empathy. I’ve watched dozens of inspirational TED talks, I’ve purchased furniture, and redecorated my flat, I’ve burnt all my candles and then bought more candles.

My water heater exploded and flooded my apartment right after I moved in and six months later I got burgled. I fed my fridge and then emptied my fridge; I baked cakes for birthdays and cooked dinner for my neighbors. I picked up smoking again and quit smoking, started again and finally quit. I smoked a cigarette four days ago and another one two days ago. I lent my apartment four times, I got a lamp, a recycling bin, homemade breakfast, and dirty bed sheets in return.

I put up pictures on my walls and bought film to take photos with my Nikon. I found a psychologist that helps improve my life and I became a member of the wine shop near my house. I bought paint and started drawing again. I have accepted to act and dance in a friend’s play. I met a man on Tinder who promised to buy me a set of wings to fly and I’ve managed to keep my beautiful plant alive and even notice it grow.

I thought I fell in love in January, but despite the pixie dust, the man did not fly. I thought I fell in love in June, but despite the proximity, we were just too different. I thought I fell in love in August, but despite the many dates, the guy never showed up. Finally I know I fell in love in October, and despite this incredible and unexpected miracle, I was asked to fall out of love because we weren’t in the right space-time continuum.

But perhaps best of all, I have written every day (give or take a few rare exceptions) since March, when I first decided I would practice automatic writing in my journal for a minimum of three pages a day. I now have six completed journals.

So although I have gone on three trips this year, I have also consciously and willingly stayed in the same place for one year, discovering myself, building skills and relationships, and perhaps that is why I have learned the most this year, because it was unusual for me, it was also uncomfortable for me, and when you are uncomfortable you know you’re learning.

Now if I could make one wish for my twenty-ninth birthday, well I wish that…

Come on! Did you really think I’d tell you?

I will leave you with some food for thought though…

“…remember, no matter where you go, there you are.” — Buckaroo Banzai