I quat

So I quat my teaching job. (I use the word quat because I truly believe quat should be the past form of quit. Same with fit and the past form of fat. eg. 'Oh I wish I fat my jeans still!') Actually I didn't fully quit  my job as my  boss offered to keep me on as an employee just in case I change my mind in a year or so. I am grateful for this since I don't actually have a new destination as yet. All I know is come the end of June I will be jobless, homeless and plan-less.I did apply for a job in Afghanistan a while back but it didn't work out which I suppose in hindsight is probably a good thing. 
But where shall I go now? What shall I do? What will become of me?
Will I find peace in the smells and sounds of another town? Will I be able to breathe without breathing in your air.

I am not ashamed to admit I am nervous ( nervous of course being a major understatement.) I don't want to start again...alone... without friends..without familiarity.. in a financially non-lucrative profession. Yuk. Without even a friendly Brazilian wax artist to show me her taut tummy and breasts that have been realigned to shoot for the moon no matter the position.  O the fear!

Fortunately a Frau of Wisdom here in Basel made a suggestion to me the other day which I quite like. She said that I should  see myself as a giant matryoshka doll. You know those Russian dolls that get smaller and smaller or bigger and bigger depending on your point of view. She said  I should imagine there is a matryoshka doll for every year of my life starting with the tiny little one when I was born.
She said each of these dolls are part of me now:
- the matryoshka doll when I was five (desperate to play the Virgin Mary in the preschool nativity play):
- the matryoshka doll  at 13 ( terrified of  gym-class showers at Broadclyst Community College, Devon,  who much preferred running through the cider orchards behind her thatched-roof home);
-  the matryoshka doll in her early twenties (having carport picnics at BP service stations at 3 in the morning with little yellow):
- the matryoshka doll who lived in London and danced in Trafalgar Square; who thrived in Florence and spent summers in Damascus; who nearly perished in Timbuctou;
- the matryoshka doll who has experienced big love and deep sorrow too.

All of these dolls, every single one, is  in me and with me.  She said I  should imagine each of these dolls standing in a row, half on either side of me, holding hands one-by-one all the way up to my own hands. She said if I could imagine this - this long line of dolls marching towards the future with me  - if  I could imagine all this energy - there would be nothing too frightening, I would never feel alone.

I love this image. I just have to believe in it.