Tania Carriere

Chip's Editorial Comment: I couldn’t resist publishing this post from long-time Wisdom Well guest blogger Tania as it’s what I want more of in my life and reminds of the company I ran for two-dozen years, Joie de Vivre Hospitality.

This used to be my motto. I’ve leaned on it when I’ve needed courage in all areas of life, including dance; a passion that I have limited to the impromptu dance parties in my kitchen, where I can be free to really let go and enjoy the movement.

On safari in Botswana, everything is primal, basic and, within hours, I can feel my senses and my instincts sharpen. Before sunrise we are bundled up, and head out to witness life as it has always happened. I watch the world begin to wake, the birds, the grasses, the big cats. It is such a privilege to participate in the magical and mundane; a mother giraffe and her babies are on the move.

“Ready to Connect” The proclamation makes me smile.

I waved goodbye to my friends and headed off, in search of the villa. After only 5 minutes of navigating the medieval streets of Orvieto (Italy), things weren't going well. I stopped, took a deep breath, stared at my map, then turned both it and myself to face a new direction.

I see sleeplessness and worry; she is, by her admission, weary under the weight of questions and fear around her decision to close down her business.

It was a normal enough moment. I was sitting at a Starbucks, coffee in hand, putting off some work for a few indulgent minutes of Facebook. I was robotically scrolling, partially engaged with the usual mix of animals, self-help quotes and messages from friends.

What I find most intriguing about these unprecedented times is that it is not only the world that is in a state of "not known or done before"; it is also ME. I am unprecedented. How intriguing.

What if I have become all that I am meant to be? When this question wormed into my subconscious, I pretended not to notice. I put a little more effort into my omelet. I have countless strategies to stop the tape from looping in my head.

I remember the moment everything plunges into darkness. For the first few minutes, I am disoriented. Slowly, the family emerges, one by one, around the kitchen table. Candles are lit, a game is found, a cosy blanket covers two of us, a bag of chips gets passed around.