---
title: "Is It Safe Yet?"
id: "4526"
type: "post"
slug: "is-it-safe-yet"
published_at: "2025-04-07T10:22:00+00:00"
modified_at: "2026-07-08T21:00:29+00:00"
url: "https://jadenhealey.com/is-it-safe-yet/"
markdown_url: "https://jadenhealey.com/is-it-safe-yet.md"
excerpt: "This morning was perfect. Sunlight on the terrace with the ocean in view. My cat stretched out beside me, eyes half closed. He has been through a lot lately. Now, he is fine. I think. There is no way to..."
taxonomy_category:
  - "States of Being"
---

This morning was perfect. Sunlight on the terrace with the ocean in view. My cat stretched out beside me, eyes half closed. He has been through a lot lately. Now, he is fine. I think. There is no way to know for sure.

Inside, most parts of me felt just as clear and warm as the day. Other parts didn’t. If we create our own reality, then shouldn’t there be a cloud up there, in a corner of the sky?

I cut into a mango, and there it was. Parts of it were perfectly ripe, the rest, rotten. It had taken too long to ripen. I ate the good parts anyway. Then the wind: cold enough to remind me that it’s not quite warm yet. I stayed as long as I could. The sun stayed longer.

I am still exploring the limits of my creativity; what I can change through my inner state, and not. The latter involves the big cycles—sunrise, heartbreak, mango seasons—they unfold whether we’re on board or not.

I’ve lived through 42 Norwegian winters. They don’t exactly invite openness. The one year I spent in Brazil, I woke up every winter day loving life. I’m wired for sunshine. But I do love creating beautiful structures, and this country holds the potential for that…

Still, there are days when the cold is too much. The body tightens. Ideas are stopped before they turn into form.

I used to stay open by snowboarding, then skiing, and in the last few years dancing and creating music. This winter, though, I was too heartbroken to play. Last winter too.

Now, things are gradually changing. I’ve been dancing. Ten of us, all experienced dancers, have formed a company. It happened suddenly.

I’m learning to trust. Not that everything will always feel good. Or that people will always stay. Or that the mango will be perfect next time. I’m learning to trust the rhythm of things. The opening and closing. The ripening and the letting go.

Right now, this moment—sun, salt air, cold wind, a cat that seems fine but might not be—that’s what I have.

And I’m choosing to dance with life—embracing its rhythm, its uncertainty, and its beauty.

One year ago to the day

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