Jet lag got nothing on me. Even after 30 hours of non-stop travel, a 6 hour-shut eye was all I needed to reset. I woke up with the sun, eager to feel the morning air. Rummaging through the kitchen cabinet, I found the largest mug for my morning survival juice. “Tea tastes better outdoors”, read the message on the mug. Perfection!

As I sat in the balcony, sipping my tea, I tried making sense of the knots in my stomach. George Ezra, the reason for all my earworms lately, blared from my phone that now lay balanced precariously on the parapet.

“Why why, what a terrible time to be alive If you’re prone to overthinking… And Why why, what a terrible time to be alive If you’re prone to second guessing”

Not the first time a song hit a nerve there. But was that it? Was my brain in overdrive? I mean, it was only my first real day in Canada and I already found myself thinking about money, jobs and survival.

Could I really have helped it though? I came from a place of noise. The constant cacophony of expectations, typical of developing economies. Used to having the success of life measured in the figures credited to my Bank account every month, all the external noise had invariably found its way inside. Friends and family had over and overexpressed their concern about what I was going to do when I shifted base. The notion of leaving a solid means of subsistence behind, only to start from scratch, was more foreign to them than the land I was moving to. But the highlight was this well-meaning, yet unknown family, who took me in during one calamitous evening when my city was flooded and my mobility was restricted, therefore. They heard of my plans to move to Canada and couldn’t keep themselves from sharing their two cents. “You really don’t need to move if you are making more than XYZ sum of money in India. It is an insane move.”

I was indeed making much more than XYZ. Were all those people right in telling me that the job market will be as cold as the country itself? Will I run out of my funds sooner than I imagined? Was this the reason I hadn’t slept longer? Noise. So much noise!

Nature has a way of slapping you out of your reverie here. A sharp, cold breeze was all it took for me to get up and take notice. Outside, some white birches, a small sugar maple with leaves turning a deep shade of burgundy, and ample grass – all glistened in the sun. It was mid-September and the onset of fall. The squirrels here were fuzzier and fluffier. The dogs, calmer – almost Zen! The people seemed more difficult to read. From my balcony, it appeared to be a poker-faced population.

I put on my running shoes, eager to explore the trail I had been dreaming of for about a year now. I had only seen glimpses of it in compressed Whatsapp Images from my brother. I was now headed to where my mind had been going all along.

The thing that strikes you the most about Canada is its open spaces. I could not believe the vast expanse of land, that went as far as my eyes could see. This was the trail? These amazing avenues, beautifully manicured lawns, a well-paved jogging path, motorized vehicle-free zone – all this just for organic, recreational activities? Free of charge? My knots gave way to butterflies.

The poker-faced population is not so much that, when they actually see you, I realized. Most people greeted me with warm pleasantries and warmer smiles. Strike up a conversation with them, and you will know how deeply human and vaguely familiar they are. Only, people talked about the weather here a lot. And there is something about a sunny day, I’ve come to realize, that brings out the best in Canadians. Bond with them over how sunny and warm the day is, and they will eat out of your hands

.

Further down the trail, there was a river; calm at some places, gurgling and gushing at some other. I could have asked for nothing more. Perching myself on one of the boulders that lined the river, I stopped to observe the rhythm of nature. Ducks and geese swam all around. Some of them took flight, swirled around and swooped back down on the surface of water, creating mad ripples.

I took it all in. The wild and frowzy forest area. The clean, unpolluted air. The music of the river. The symphony of all of nature and its elements, including people. It was a setting for higher vibrations. This was no place for entertaining mental clutter.

The epiphany then hit me. This synergy with nature had made me automatically skip the bottom four rungs of the human needs pyramid. Survival and esteem issues had no place where there were bliss and a strong urge for self-actualization. Maybe this is what they mean by better quality of life. It starts manifesting when you really think about the quality of your existence rather than anxiously and fervently planning your survival means. It happens when air bubbling with Oxygen, and not plagued with toxins, fills your lungs and cells.

And isn’t that why I had moved here? At that moment, I found my answers.

And although I knew I would keep going back to the noise, the doubts, the overthinking, from time to time, I was just glad that I had found my connection with Nature. That would help me operate on the desired frequency. I would always come back to the concluding lines of the said George Ezra song:

“Hey pretty shining people, we’re alright together…. We’re alright together”

Nothing in the world had felt more reassuring than that though, at that moment.

I got up with a skip in my step, dancing to the mad medley of nature. I wondered what the well-meaning family would say if they saw me dancing for no reason.

“And those who were dancing were thought to be insane by those who couldn’t hear the music.”, Nietzsche one said. This was the insane move they were talking about, I decided.

Jet lag hit me that night. I slept for 12 hours straight.