Summers, in general, tend to go this way for me. Maybe it’s because I’m an October baby, but Autumn often feels like my personal New Year or Spring. Summer, however, is my Winter, and Winter must always precede Spring; it’s the natural order of things. (No matter how much I wish I could skip this part.)

Within my personal death cycles, however, I have come to trust that there will be a healing balm offered by life; some sort of link to my resiliency to help get me through the crunchy bits. This particular season, the balm came in the form of a generous invitation from a friend on the West Coast of Ireland. She came to visit me at the eco village I’d originally landed at in June, and like an ER doctor about to perform emergency surgery, she looked at me with precision and said, “You need to get the fuck out of here. Now!” The next thing I knew, I was being invited to her family home on the coast of Galway. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it!

Two weeks later I would arrive at that home, only to experience the exact opposite of what my previous environment had been. All I’m going to say, is that I went from mowing fields and pooping in a compostable toilet, to taking jacuzzi seaweed baths and sipping wine, as a pre-programmed robotic lawn mower carefully curated the backyard overlooking the Wild Atlantic Way. My friends, there is a God, and this is His address.

To be honest, I spent the first three days fervently walking to the beach and crying tears of joy. I felt like I was literally being resuscitated as I went from land-locked and dying, to free by the sea, almost overnight.

But here’s where the plot twist comes in; this was not just some ‘random’ sea side town in Ireland, where I was buying time before my return to Italy. This was the town that literally had my name stamped on the map.

My first morning in town I went for a walk to the beach and made my way to the end of the pier. The sea was in front of me, and the quaint village of Barna, Galway behind me. Directly behind me, however, was a restaurant called, “O’Grady’s on the Pier.” Cue more tears. My ancestors took the ‘O’ off several generations ago to become more Americanized, but a Grady, is a Grady, is a Grady. And this Summer my ancestors made sure I found my way home. In the States we rarely get to see our sense of belonging reflected back to us through name, so when a moment like this happens I pay attention.

The next day I walked to a coffee shop that had been recommended to me. The coffee shop sits at the top of the same street that O’Grady’s bookends at the bottom. And as fate would have it, it turns out that the owner of the coffee shop and I had two mutual connections. When I learned of this, I really began to pay attention. I could feel that I’d been brought here on purpose. Not for a purpose I had sought out, but one that was necessary for reasons not yet known.

The name of the coffee shop is called, Súil Eile, which is an Irish language phrase that literally translates to “another eye” or “another view.” But it really means, “another perspective.” It turns out, that perspective would be the entire purpose of my time here.

If you know me, you know that I live my life intuitively and from my body. I pretty much wake up every day and ask, “body, where should we go today? What would you like me to know?” I allow my body to be the guide and let my reasoning mind follow. It is this embodied way of living that has landed me in many kismet connections and miracles around the world. When you stop trying to control your life, or have it make sense, your body will guide you to the right place at the right time, too. This is this the space of miracles.

For the last six weeks I’ve been allowing my body to guide me in and out of Súil Eile and the streets of Galway city. Each time I listen, I seem to find myself in a miraculous encounter. It’s almost become a running joke between the owner of Súile Eile and I. “Sarah, what amazing connection have you made today?” he’ll often tease. I could sincerely write a book about each and every person I’ve formed a connection with here, but it is the connection-making itself that has caused me to take a proper “súile eile.”

With my body deeply healing by the sea, and feeling nourished by a sense of belonging in Barna, I began to wonder, is this my place? After all my travels in the last two years, and after all my clarity in deciding that ‘home’ is Italy, was the West Coast of Ireland somehow offering a plot twist that I didn’t see coming?

On some level this would be poetic, right? The Irish-American goes on a global homecoming journey to return to her ancestral roots. But I haven’t done all this traveling just for poetry. I’ve consciously gone on this journey to discover where I want to plant my roots. When I left my home in Savannah, GA three years ago I did it not because I didn’t love Savannah, I did. I left because I realized ‘my people’ weren’t there; meaning, the individuals I felt most seen or met by. The ones who spoke my language. The ones who understood me without even speaking. The ones I was meant to make a family with or build a continuity of care with. And most importantly, the ones I feel safe with.

The unfolding of my life in Barna seemed to whisper, “these are your people.” I even had a new acquaintance joke, “You’re never leaving here!” In some weird way, his comment felt like a claiming. Like he was somehow saying, “Sarah, don’t go back to Italy. We love you here. There is room for you here. Stay.” His comment sincerely invited me into a deeper consideration: could I really imagine myself building a life in Ireland instead of Italy?

In my honest excavation, I’ve come to a few questions that might be helpful to you if you find yourself at a similar crossroads in life.

• When imagining moving to a place, think about your day-to-day. What does a random Tuesday look like there? Even the traffic, bureaucracy, and standing in line at the post office. Really envision it, and notice how your body feels. If even the shitty bits don’t feel so shitty, then you’ve found your place!

• If logistics of money, legal visas, or other hoops didn’t exist, where would your heart say, “Go!” ???

• If tragedy were to strike, where and with whom would you feel most safe?

• Where do you feel grounded? Peaceful? Resourced? Alive? Not just where do you have fun.

• Where do you feel fully expressed? Meaning, where do you feel like you can be the best version of yourself, unapologetically, and have that supported by the culture, the landscape, and the people.

• Does this place support your future self/goals? (A place can be fun to visit, but it might not support raising children or expanding your career.)

• Lastly, where does life feel sustainable? Both financially, but also energetically and relationally.

  ---

As I sat with all these questions, and felt for the truth of the answers in my own body, something unexpected came forward: grief. It was the grief of considering not choosing Italy. Clearly, Ireland has opened its arms to me, but… to think about life without walking through markets and piazzas, the smell of espresso and dough baking in the morning, hearing Italian before English, and crazy nonnas yelling at their grandkids, physically made me sad. To think about life without spontaneous aperitivo dates with friends and late night gelatos made me sad. To think about life without a double-kiss and a hug as the baseline greeting made me sad. I mean, I’m a highly affectionate person, and no matter how many times I’ve had coffee at Súil Eile, the owner has yet to hug, kiss, or even shake my hand! (sorry Seamus lol)

Now don’t get me wrong, Italy is a challenging country. It is chaos at its finest. But what I love about Italy, and Italians, is how unapologetic it is. Italy says, “This is all my shit, take it or leave it.” It’s not trying to be anything that it’s not. And isn’t that what real love is? Italy is good food, good sex, and maybe a fight or two after too much to drink. It’s also a culture deeply centered around family, roots, and slowing down. And it is a country that values the technology of beauty. When the world is on fire, or you’re just having a shitty day, the beauty of Italian architecture, fashion, or the most mundane corner market can act as literal medicine.

As many of you know, my time in Italy has not been easy. And yet, it is the one country in the world that has repeatedly shaped me into ‘She Who Stays.’ And staying, or committing, I should say, is the quality I most desire to create in my life. In a world of dating apps swipes and social media dopamine hits, can we learn how to return to the slow art of choosing just one thing and staying with it? To really invest in the person, place, or endeavor before us, and choose to ride the seasons of success and failure, instead of looking for a convenient way out when things get wobbly.

In tandem to my travels, I’ve also been writing two books on love. I can’t help but think of Barna, Ireland (and the magic of Súil Eile), within the allegory of marriage. Often times before people get married there’s that last minute hurrah. Maybe it’s the stripper at the bachelor party, maybe it’s the ex that reaches back out, maybe it’s the cold feet that has us scrolling through photos of old flames; energetic distractions to test to see if we’re really willing to cross the threshold into the rite of passage of marriage.

As I sit at Súil Eile this morning, thoroughly enjoying some coffee and kismet connection, I have a feeling that Italy and Ireland are like two great lovers who are asking me to make a choice. (Because y’all know I’m not one for polyamory.)

Maybe you’ve experienced this, too? Like, one option wouldn’t be wrong, but it wouldn’t be fully right either, and so, you must love it enough to let it go. You must choose commitment over the seduction of one more plot twist or being chosen.

For me, the truth is: I’m a magnetic woman whose “people” are everywhere, because I have lived and loved deeply all over the world. Like Juliette Binoche’s character in Chocolat, I will continue to create magic everywhere I go. But making magic isn’t the same thing as building a life. So, instead of being chosen from the outside, my task is to clearly choose from the inside, and move in the direction of self-trust. My task is simply to take the next right step, and trust that [that] is enough. And right now, that is Italy.

The next right step for you is the one you choose, from the inside out, too. And when you choose it with your whole being, it will choose you back. This, I know. It’s simply the nature of things. Just like after Winter, must come Spring.

And along the way, thank the súil eiles that come into your life. Sometimes we just need a little perspective, and good coffee, so we can trust that we are making the right choice…instead of constantly wondering, what if?

With Love,

Sarah

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