As a matter of fact, I'd always had 'after christmas' in my mind as a departure date. 6 months seemed a nice round number. Whatever that means. As January approached, i felt more and more comfortable with my choice because it became clear there would be a mass exodus of 'long termers' around this time; why stay if everyone is leaving? (yet again.. and again.. and again...)
A few days before christmas I realized my departure was fast approaching, and recalled that I had promised myself i'd quit a few weeks early so I could really enjoy my last little while at the Factory. The next day I gave my 2weeks notice, and was off the roster 6 days later. (my wallet and bank balance commiserated...). I had also decided that I was F<^king sick of bus living, and within a week had moved back into the campground. I became a happy full time resident of Sugoi Street!
And so began the emotional rollercoaster that was my arts factory wind-down! For a while I felt no less or more upset about leaving. In fact, it all seemed quite unreal, as drastic changes like this always do; I still can't quite come to grips with how easily and quickly something or someone can become a mere memory. It makes everything feel like it might just slip right through your fingers. Buddhism says we never really held it in the first place, and we must learn to let go. I did try to take comfort in this thought while mentally preparing myself for the separation anxiety to come. (True to byron style; when in doubt, turn to eastern religions! they have good answers AND good food!)
About a week before my departure date, a hazy veil was removed from my eyes and suddenly I saw my little world more clearly than ever before. Every tiny detail was being soaked up by my senses in the vain hope of keeping them with me forever and ever and ever. This 'letting go' thing was proving difficult! The struggle peaked during my last sunday session at Oska Cafe, where musicians (mostly arts factorians) gather on fuzzy sunday mornings to perform/enjoy laid back music and absorb bacon grease&caffeine. Every moment, every note, brought on more and more intense feelings. I tried to focus on how lucky I was that I should leave with memories like these in my mind and heart! But, alas, nothing could stop the flow of emotion and I had to excuse myself about 4 times to go hide around the corner and cry my eyes out.
(the hangover didnt help...)
Finally, d-Day came, rather anticlimactically. Spent my last evening first poking at my first-and-only-ever 2$ dinner at Cheeky Monkeys, then wandering around Byron late at night with Tamar, eating one final hedgehog from the 23hour bakery. Awoke the next morning to a very long to-do list that included giving away half my stuff, and packing the rest into a suitcase, a backpack, and a box to follow me down by post at a later date. Peppered through my tasks were many hugs, goodbyes, and last minute additions to my todo list. (Crap! Never asked so-and-so for that money they owe me! 20minutes is enough time to do laundry, right? Its never too late to make that long-promised 3dozen chocolate chip cookies.....) At about T-minus2hours, I must have blacked out, cause the rest is just a big ol' blur of reassuring words, hugs, tears (mostly mine) and car related pranks.
And then just like that, we were gone. Jenny, Amber, Myself, and Tamar were dazedly packed into the car, hurdling down the highway towards rest stops and beaches unknown, no longer under the protective wing of the Arts Factory and Byron Bay. I felt like a kite whose string had been cut;flying through random space, unsure where or even if I'd land again... How long would I be caught in updrafts, and how far would they carry me? Would I wind up swallowed by the sea? caught in place by some branches again? On I flew.
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