So on Friday night I returned from what I have figured out was my first 'holiday' in about ten years. I'd been to Gouvia in Corfu, Greece with my Mum for a week.
I had already been through the whole holiday or traveling debate and finally decided, whilst 200 pages deep into a scandal-ridden beach read on day three of little movement, that this was most definitely a holiday.
How did I arrive at this conclusion?
My mind was blank.
For the first time in forever I was laying down on some form of bed without my head racing endlessly through ideas.
It's not like I had tried to arrive at that state, but did so naturally because I had given myself the permission to do nothing. I had thought this felt like a holiday- that I didn't have to make anything.
I had told myself that it wouldn't be the end of the world if I came home with nothing- no photos, no writing, no ideas. It's ok. Just go and chill for a week.
And I did. For four days I barely lifted a finger.
Then I picked up a camera and it was so much fun and then I had so many ideas. I had a clear mind, and like every cliché associated with clear minds, the inspiration just started flowing.
It did mean I couldn't sleep for a few nights, but it also meant that I arrived home with a head full of realigned dreams and shed-loads of positive vibes to throw at them!
Don't get me wrong. I will always love my traveling, but I think I have just reignited a flame for holidays.