So I made it to Paris and I’m soaking up the summer. The past week was testing. It began when I made the final search through my backpack at the airport to discover that the bundle of sweat-saved euros was no longer where I had concealed it. I managed to avoid a Fukushima-sized meltdown with measured breaths and the type of fatalism required when one is about to board Malaysian airlines. Somewhere between the carpark and the undersized economy seat, I had also lost a luggage lock and my water bottle. There was nothing to do but let go. I closed my eyes and imagined what the mountain gods and goddesses would counsel. The answer was clear. Everything is already yours if you are prepared to accept it. Around midnight in a strangely familiar airport lounge halfway across the world, I discovered the missing money. This felt like a gift because I had already jumped off the edge and was free flying.