It is easy to feel lost and adrift in today’s world. Social media, infectious political discourse, fake news, and a new existential threat to humanity every week leave a certain despair and borderline-nihilism wafting through the air that can suffocate even the most hopeful of spirits. Growing up in the first two decades of the 21st century left me, and much of my cohort, to be conditioned with these feelings as if they were normal. I waded through much of my life uncertain about who I was, what I wanted to do, and what my purpose was.
Everything changed in May of 2017 when I landed in Greece for the first time. I mentioned in my first piece published in Greece Is the Word that during those first few days I was stricken with the worst case of cultural shock I had ever experienced. I could not fathom that such a simple, peaceful, and happy lifestyle could exist in the world today. It was only after spending time adjusting to life on Ikaria, my ancestral homeland, that something else started to brew inside of me that profoundly changed who I am.
Growing up, I was constantly in a creative mode. Whether I was on the blacktop during recess playing in imaginary worlds with my friends, learning how to play the guitar, taking on my own creative writing projects, or helping to launch a podcast, I was always creating, imagining, and trying to manifest these ideas into the real world. As far as I could surmise, I was different than almost everyone I ever met. Scarcely anyone I ever encountered had an imagination and passion like I did, and the ones who did didn’t have the confidence or drive to see their ideas through in the way I wanted to. I felt like an oddball, an outcast, and -- sometimes -- like I wasn’t even from this planet. And don’t get me wrong: to the younger version of myself, this was much more a vice than a virtue; I kept it suppressed for years, making myself unsociable and genuinely unpleasant to be around at times.
Living on Ikaria for around two months of my life over the last three years unlocked the key to myself I didn’t know I was looking for. After traversing every corner of that island and getting to know it and its inhabitants—a large percentage of which I am related to in one way or another, and even bear some physical resemblance to—I came to find myself sprinkled all over Ikaria in different ways.
Artistic expression is a mainstay in Ikarian life. Art can be found on the walls of buildings in the streets of every village on the island, and one would be remiss if they did not hear live music echoing off of the buildings and rocks at least once a week. There is a certain romanticism about the island—the ocean views, the silence that encompasses air at twilight, and the isolation from the rest of the world—that brings about an artistic streak in its people, and the people who live on it, like famed composer Mikis Theodorakis, who wrote the timeless song “Zorba the Greek” and once lived on Ikaria in exile. Given my love for music and other art forms, I realized that this creative fervor was clearly passed down to me through generations.
I only began to realize this after reading my copy of Ernest Hemingway’s incomparable The Old Man and the Sea (a harrowing tale that coincidentally teaches its protagonist to be grateful for what he has right in front him) while overlooking the water and enjoying a cup of Greek coffee. I began to unlock the creativity that I had ignored for years. During that process, I began to jot down ideas for stories I wanted to write, music I wanted to play, and for the first time—after seeing the incredible art created by the people all around me -- I began to realize, finally, that it was ok to be, well, me.
Sometimes the biggest and most positive changes in our lives can come at the most unexpected times and places (see the fabled “love at first sight” for more on that); and in a world rocked by uncertainty and pain, I implore everyone to take time away, whether literally or mentally, to realign yourself and discover who you are—really—and begin to accept and love yourself. By doing so, you will be the best version of yourself you can be -- not only for yourself, but for everyone around you -- and we can get back on track towards a brighter future.
This work isn’t easy—it’s painstakingly difficult and requires an almost-dangerous amount of self-reflection -- but the liberation at the other end makes it all worth the while. Sometimes the answer was in front of your face the entire time and sometimes, like me, you have to travel 7,000 miles from home to find it.
Ryan Love was born and raised in a woefully average town called South San Francisco, California. Currently, he can be found either with his nose in a book at a local coffee shop, playing his guitar in spectacularly semi-intermediate fashion, podcasting with his friends, or hunched over his laptop with the preposterous resolve of writing the next Great American Novel. He also wrote his own bio entirely in the third person. To read more of his work, visit him at https://www.ryterlove.com/.