Outside my day job, I am a thinker and a writer. I find wisdom in the ordinary of the day and live with an urge to translate experiences and hunches into words and coherent paragraphs, not in order to add to life but to make sense of it. Sometimes I catch myself smiling, basking in the satisfaction of having articulated a thought elegantly. At other times, I am flabbergasted by a realisation that is so obvious (to the wise) and revolutionary (to me).

When I discuss the inner workings of my mind, the refined insights but also – and predominantly – entangled thought processes, puzzling observations and emotions both familiar and new with my husband, friends and family, I am more often than not humbled by their translations of my inner chaos into human language, their reflections on their own experiences, identical, analogous or opposite and the ear they lend me. I have come to understand that the adage I think therefore I am is not wrong but incomplete. We think and therefore we are.

What is it that we think about? Love and relationships. The nature and evolution of friendships and family dynamics. Professional paths and how they turn out to be not at all as linear as we envision them in second year of law school. Joy. The mammoth and the subtle developments in collective and individual political opinion. Over and over again I discover that I am clothed in old and familiar but limiting shells, which I must discard so that I might grow new, glittering scales that will allow me to explore unknown waters.

I am 33 years old. Almost like a goldfish with the memory span of, well, a goldfish, I have the repeated realisation that the 30’s are the time when we finally begin to really tune in with ourselves. Not because life stops but because it changes its rhythm. The 20’s are fast-paced. University degrees and first jobs. Romantic relationships that matter but don’t last, friendships often intertwined with our professional endeavours. In the 30’s, our professional and romantic lives become less tumultuous and friendships begin a life-long transformation in which they transcend school and work and often gain in love and depth what they relinquish in the commitment of time. This new rhythm of life, now resembling less a river rushing down a waterfall but rather its slower, although not less intense exploration and creation of its floodplain frees up cognitive bandwith and leaves us with more time to make sense not just of our surroundings but, equally importantly, ourselves. The 20’s are not the time when an up-and-coming star with an MSc in behavioural economics and all the right internships and references signs up for the local forest association’s annual mushroom hunting course. In the 30’s, she just might.

This is what the Floodplain is about. It is about a more tender rhythm and hightened awareness, the courage to pause, be curious, accept change and play. It is a tip-of-the-hat to the breathtaking people who never cease to amaze me with their wisdom and a conversation with other 30-somethings and floodplainers of all ages.

Floodplain: Writings on transient truths and tangible lightnesses will feature a new post every three weeks and will, I hope, over time also offer long-reads, interviews and guest contributions.