“For twenty years I have gone every day to the same woods,
not waiting, exactly, just lingering. Such gifts, bestowed, can’t be repeated.
If you want to talk about this come to visit. I live in the house
near the corner, which I have named Gratitude.”
— Mary Oliver
Every morning I wake to the sound of the fan whirring above my head.
It’s hung quite high in my peaked ceiling, so that it doesn’t actually do much in the way of cooling the air; mostly it just ruffles my lavender mosquito net as though a gentle breeze were passing through.
Four steps later and I’m in the kitchen. The first thing I do is open my front door, let the outside in like an old friend. I fry two eggs, toast two pieces of bread, and then put the saucepan on to boil, for my two cups of coffee in my tiny red mug.
Apparently, my mornings here in Goa start best in pairs.
I read for an hour over this breakfast of matching sets, switching between novels and non-fiction. I can’t seem to get enough to read these days, just like I never feel like I’ve had enough to eat. There’s something in this salty, balmy air that has revved up my appetite on all levels.
I say hello to Kalesha, a neighborhood dog who now arrives on my doorstep like clockwork, and to Navita and Nidhi, my landlord’s beautiful wife and sweet nine-month-old daughter.
And then I put the book I’m reading that day away and get out my book.
For the next four hours, I’m “working on my book,” but depending on the day, that could mean different things.
Best case scenario: I’m actually writing, in the zone, feeling a chapter come together. Worst case scenario: I’m screaming at my screen and scrunching up not just the page but the whole premise into a virtual ball, to be thrown into the trash can that is my external harddrive. (That happened Sunday.)
At noon, I put the saucepan back on for two cups of tea, and at two o’clock, I get up and change out of my writing clothes – by which I mean the clothes I slept in, by which I mean my pajamas – and into my swimsuit and navy blue dress. I put on my sunglasses and set out for the beach.
My flip-flops broke two days ago, so for the first half of the walk I pick my way carefully along the gravel road. But then I come to where the path descends towards the first cove of Palolem Beach and the gravel gives way. I walk with more confidence, the sand soft beneath my feet.
Once I’m in the water, I do the breaststroke, a few spurts of freestyle, or I might stop to tread water, anything really to – in the words of my doctor in a particularly embarrassing physical appointment last year – “get my heart rate up.” I’ve never been into exercising, okay?
And usually it’s right then – as my face is turned to the sun and my arms and legs are moving in great big circles through the Arabian Sea – that it hits me, every day:
This is my life.
I’m like Drew Barrymore at the end of 50 First Dates, having to be reminded of her story every day before she can actually get up and live it.
It all comes rushing back to me – the two fried eggs, the two cups of coffee, the delicious, uninterrupted hours that I get to spend with my book, the fact that I live five minutes from the sea and can submerge myself in it every day, that I can walk its shore, letting the saltwater dry on my skin – all of it hits me, every day, as profoundly as it did the day before, and it’s all I can do not to throw my hands up to the sky and say thank you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.
Because these five weeks in Goa – two of which, I realized yesterday with horror, have already gone by – are nothing short of a gift: one I would say is the greatest gift we can give ourselves. The chance to live the life we are made to live, the chance to work at our passion, the chance to do what we love.
It’s a gift and I don’t feel like I deserve it. But it’s exactly what I hope for my family and friends, and what I hope for you, too – that we are each able to give ourselves this gift. In three weeks, I will leave Goa, with my skin a little darker, my feet a little tougher, and hopefully my book a little longer, but most importantly, I will leave with the awareness of what doing what I love looks like.
And a promise to myself that I will never settle for anything less, anywhere else.
YES, YES, YES. Brian and I have been having these conversations and I swear to god I have literally said “This is the life I want. This is what I want it to look like.” To sit with my book, to shape it every day, to write, to read, to devote myself to this craft. It is everything I want and I am so happy I know what it looks like, because now I know I won’t settle for anything less. (I wish we didn’t have to leave Goa. I wish we could both stay until our books are written)
“To sit with my book, to shape it every day, to write, to read, to devote myself to this craft.” >> I LOVE IT. This literally brought tears to my eyes to read, Kim – I’m so happy (giddy, almost) to be sharing this beautiful place with you guys and our books! How amazing is it that we’ll always be able to look back on Colomb Bay with such fondness, as the place where our books took shape.
This is your most beautiful post ever. Honestly. I adore you, your words and you life!
Ah, M.Rose! Thank you so much for such kind words of support. I adore you too! xo
This is lovely. It seems like, even in the most ideal of circumstances, it is relatively easy to take it all for granted.
By the way, is that Hannah and her long blond hair in the picture of the beach?
Thanks for reading and for your comment, Carmel! It definitely can be easy to take this for granted, so I’m trying to stop every once in a while to remember what it is I’m so in love with here 🙂 And yes, that is indeed Hannah – well-spotted!
Found this post via a Facebook friend’s post today, and read it while eating oatmeal and drinking one cup of coffee, after cleaning leaves out of a rooftop gutter and before driving to a coffee shop to edit last week’s Mardi Gras photos. Thanks so much for sharing this glimpse of your life and thoughts in Goa. Beautiful and refreshing. And all the best as you continue working on the book!
Thanks so much for stopping by and saying hello, Joel! It’s great to hear from you here, and I’m really glad you enjoyed the piece. I hope your photo-editing session in the coffee shop went well 🙂 Will we be able to see the Mardi Gras shots online somewhere?
I’m three years late in replying, Candace, but yes, they eventually got put up on my website homepage (www.joelcarillet.com)!
Today I devoted some time to rereading a few old bookmarked posts, including this one by you. That’s why I’m back here and replying in such an untimely fashion 🙂
I think you might just be living your way into the answers. Beautiful post AND beach AND life. SOAK IT IN like a cool summer rain.
Hey, Mama dearest! I think you might just be right 🙂 I really do feel like the clarity I’ve sought has slowly but surely appeared. Thank you so much for your support – I will definitely be soaking in these last three weeks in Goa!
I read your posts regularly, but this one more profound in meaning to me than any others. THIS post is what I wish my children could soak up and believe in for themselves….truly beautiful writing and message.
Hey, Charlynne! Thanks so much for your kind words – they mean a lot. I think you’re so right about us having to believe in this for ourselves – I’ve just been writing in my book recently about how we sometimes have to decide and commit to and believe in our destiny first before it can happen. I hope that for your kids as well!
I think I nodded my whole way through reading this. I feel exactly the same way, and tell myself daily how lucky I am. It truly is the greatest gift; to know what you want, and have the courage and fortitude to pursue it. I’m so happy our dreams have allowed our lives to overlap for this short while. That in itself has been a truly wonderful gift 🙂
“It truly is the greatest gift; to know what you want, and have the courage and fortitude to pursue it.” >> Yes! It really is a two-part gift, isn’t it? Not only knowing what you want/what you love, but also going after it. I have probably said this a thousand times so far, but I too am so grateful that each of us pursuing what we love has brought us all here!
Darling, your writing and photography is absolutely sensational! What an incredible place to write a book!!!!
Thanks so much, Andi!! Your words mean so much to me here – thank you, thank you. And yes – I feel truly blessed to be bringing my book to existence in this gorgeous place! Hope all is well with you 🙂
Beautiful words as always! Sometimes we just need to stop in your tracks to reflect back and be thankful for what we have. I’m eternally grateful for this life and for this chance to be able to do something I absolutely love. Glad to hear you feel the same way!
Hey Nellie! Thanks so much as always for your support – and I love knowing you feel the same way. It’s such an honor and blessing to be able to explore the world the way we can, when the possibilities and adventures are endless! Hope you and Alberto are having an amazing time in Israel – it certainly looks like it from your photos 🙂
The intersperse of what you have just read – where you have placed the photos in this story just led one in a trance like state along the journey with you. Ironic to also be sipping coffee and planning the day NOT (as it is the weekend).
Easily the most moving piece you have written. So much so that I have booked myself 10 days in Goa near Colomb for the beginning of April.
Gerald, I can’t thank you enough for your comment and your kind words – and I am absolutely thrilled to hear you’re heading to Colomb Bay! I really think you’ll love it here. Please let me know if you need any recommendations of where to stay or eat – it’s such a lovely little spot in India 🙂
Candace, This is WONDERFUL! And so very true!! Thank you for a precious and irreplaceable gift from Goa.
Thank you so much for this, Don! These five weeks truly feel like a gift, and I’m so happy to be able to share it with you all here. My gratitude and wonder are definitely overflowing in Goa – I know you would love it here, too 🙂
This is beautifully written, Candace. I want to gift a writing retreat to myself someday, and this is very similar to what I hope it looks like.
Thank you, JoAnna! That means a lot. Your comment here actually inspired my latest post, so I hope you might be able to come to Goa one day to have that writing retreat 🙂 Hope you’re doing well!
Fabulous post Candace, keep living the dream, Namaste 🙂 x
Thanks so much, Siobhain! Hope to see you again at Book Passage this year 🙂 x
Your life. <3. I'm ever so envious. More and more I'm coming to realise that I'm meant to be by the beach. Hence my move to Guernsey.
Can I just say how much I love knowing you are going to be living on Guernsey?! When do you leave? I seriously wish I could find a way to come visit you – that would be oh-so-delightful. But yes, I’m right there with you… the beach is where it’s at (although I’m typing this from the mountains of Dharamsala, my heart will always belong to the sea!).
Beautiful, your article and life.
Thank you for sharing that kind thought, Thirumala.
https://uploads.disquscdn.com/images/3b69cab9a3138461e127eac22b2fde370136c5c62831acafb752637cc8a66e74.jpg So grateful I saw your travel sketches, (and subscribed) Candace Rose Rardon, that I just replaced my twitter banner of daffodils with your veggies! Of course, if you’d like me to remove it I will. In any case, I want to let my inner artist breathe. I buy painting kits, paper, pens all the time and NEVER break them open. Okay, I journal – hence the screen name – but I long to sketch. And now, maybe if I keep reading and seeing your inspired and inspiring perspectives I will. Did I mention I refuse to use becoming a mother of a toddler recently as an excuse? Keep being you. It makes a wildly wonderful difference. Yours in gratitude, SisDr Karen.