Reflection in the sky

As I open my laptop to begin writing today, something is different. I am surrounded by strangers. My elbows are jammed tightly by my sides; a most awkward position for typing. My ears are blocked, the sound of gushing air is all around me. I am thousands of feet in the air.

I am Singapore-bound; a day behind Daniel.

It occurs to me that it’s been close to two years since I last flew somewhere; (not co-incidentally) about the same amount of time since I started my first company. Boy am I glad I decided to take 2.5 months off to travel around South East Asia when I did, in September 2011.

I had no idea at the time, but as fate would have it I would not be stepping away from Jaden Social and from day-to-day responsibility again for more than a few hours at a time.

Not until today.

This week, quite a few people asked me “Are you excited about your trip, Nic?”

What I told each of them, honestly, is “No… but I am looking forward to it.”

For me, excitement comes from looking into the future, anticipating what might happen next. Realising there might just be something amazing around the bend.

The truth is, I have spent nearly every day of the last 2 years doing that. This week is no different.

When Daniel, Joel, Igor and I set out on this unlikely journey together, we always knew that we could do something incredible together. Make waves, turn heads, and explore the world while doing it.

But seeing possibility and achieving in actuality are far from the same thing.

The endless hours of proactive planning, strategising, building and lost sleep (aka ‘getting ahead’) are what have made the possible into the actual.

No, what I am feeling today is not ‘excitement’. What I am experiencing is more akin to an acute sensation of something called satisfaction.

With no chance of any emails, phone calls or carrier-pigeons bearing news of disaster piercing my reality for the next 8 hours, I am taking this chance to sink into my seat, pull my sights back from an eternally futuristic gaze, and indulge myself a little in the then and the now.

As I leave life in Sydney behind for a week, I am extremely comforted by the thought of 12 incredible people working their asses off to turn the many cogs that were set into motion in my bedroom in Newport Beach not so long ago.

For the very first time I can take a step back, look down from a bird’s eye view, and observe this magnificent and self-sufficient creature living a life all on its own. Without me.

Maybe I will have kids one day after all.