It almost seems that with the rain our jetlag was washed away. And now, with the sun out again, our energy finds its way back into our bodies.
Settling in, coming home to the other end of the world, the first days are always a bit slow, and this time the rain might have played its part. You’re neither there, nor here. You’re somewhere between the old and the new time zone, somewhere between finding your daily routine and getting dragged into a new rhythm.
It’s coming home to a familiar environment, that yet again and again takes getting used to. 12 hours time difference and winter-summer change being undeniable forces. Even having it done a dozen times, you need some time to adjust.
You’re sleepy and in a zest for action at the same time. Longing to do things, but not in the mood for, not capable to do your usual stuff. You’re in a funny state.
The first two days I, for example, am never in the mood to write or read a book – I just don’t feel in tune and focused enough. All I do is a bit of socializing, observing the new-old environment, having a look at the beach. All very basic. Early dinners, lots of sleep.
Low energy and low inspiration. However, all embraced by a calmness, a serenity, a state of being so hard to achieve at other times. It’s like flowing through the day, slow-paced and wrapped in quiet happiness.
Acknowledging the fact that your body needs time to adapt. And having at hand this very time to let it.
Knowing that rest and adjustment eventually make room for energy and creativity, letting you go back to your own rhythm, a fresh dynamic inside.