March 13

While eating my oats on Friday morning, I became frightfully aware that I had no post-porridge plans for the the weekend. The other volunteer here, a French woman named Alejandre, was scurrying out the door to catch a bus to Westport when I decided that visiting the coastal town seemed as good a plan as any and booked a cheap Airbnb for the next night as I finished my coffee.

On the bus to Westport, I tried to focus on being open to things right than preoccupied with how things could go wrong, a regular practice for me that’s become all the more vital on this trip. I’m an anxious person, but if I focus, I can move into an awareness that life flows much more easily and joyfully when I release expectations and the need to know.

Last night, I wound up in Galway for a show at the Róisín Dubh, where I heard a 4-piece from Dublin was playing. The Scratch, who I vaguely dubbed indie after listening to one song on Spotify turned out to be a fusion of Irish folk and metal - which looks like the the merch guy leaping on stage halfway through the set to traditionally dance in jeans in front of a thrashing crowd. Not what I expected, but finding myself in that mess of sweaty bodies after two years largely without live music and two weeks of solitary travel turned out to be precisely what I needed.

One reason I love the song “Certainty” by Big Thief is the way Adrianne sings, “My certainty is wild, weaving”, which could read like a worry but the words float above bouncy drums with an air of leisurely ease.

These sort of sentiments act like a balm for my worried, perfectionism-pilled brain. I can’t eradicate thoughts like “Though you’re on time, make a plan for what to do when you mess up your connecting bus to Westport” or “What is you miss the good part”, but I am gradually getting better at patting them on the head as they pass through. 

After a round of buy-a-pastry-to-use-a-bathroom in a Westport bakery, I found another bus heading in the direction of my seaside Airbnb. When I asked the driver which stop made the most sense, he waved his hand, “Just let me know when we’re in front of your B&B and I’ll let you off there”

I dropped my bag and crafted a snack in the small sun-soaked yellow kitchen before starting the walk back into Westport, where I wandered aimless amongst bachelorette parties and tourist families sharing the streets with me. When the rain picked up I ducked into a cafe and tried to figure out how to navigate to one of the nearby beaches or mountains before catching my 6pm bus the next day.

Nearby I found a natural wine bar nestled into an alleyway that felt more like a living room once I got inside, the walls lined with records or books and a kitchen that was really just a countertop for assembling cheese platters. I chatted with the owner and another employee and snacked on some provided pesto and crackers for half an hour before they even handed me a menu. I forgot about the list of recommended pubs in my notes app and spent the night there.

Detailed planning, doubt and scrutiny all have their place - in my journalism, in unlearning unhealthy conditioning or identifying the influence of oppressive power systems or catching a flight - but I keep getting reminded me that grasping at certainty in every aspect of life is pretty futile and mostly tiring.

I never found any good bus routes to Westport’s scenic surroundings but as the evening wrapped at the wine bar, Tom asked if he could pick me up the next morning for a landscape photography tour, said it’d been too long since he’d had a good Sunday excursion. It seems like sweet synchronicities like these come easily when I make space for them, when I loosen that tight grip on how I think things should be.

Maybe this is an ongoing tension of being a 20-something, being raised in an individualistic culture or existing in a time that feels apocalyptic and limitless simultaneously, this pressure to plan ahead and iron out the unknowns. Another line from “Certainty” goes, “Need to lie here, need to leave, living in the debt of make-believe,” I don’t know much of anything and I’m finding a lot of hope in that lately.