On the Loose

There will come a time, a month or so from now, when I will be loosening my grip on this home place for a time. A longer absence, most of a few months with only short breaks.

I have gotten used to this staying put thing, especially so this winter. I have revelled in it, become attached to this way of being still. Although I know the anticipation of the departure is worse than the actual doing will be.
It worries me, makes me uneasy; this looming period of being on the loose. I have gotten used to my temperature controlled existence, the comfort of my version of 'routine'. The time I have had to be within myself, the pauses I have built into my days. Down in there somewhere I also worry that by pulling up anchor, I will be forgotten again.

But I am about to be unleashed upon the wild places. Mountain, ocean, river will become home once again. I will forget the patterned safety of the day to day in favour of something magical. I am supremely lucky. Privileged to opt out, at least in part, of this modern existence. The rhythms of wind and tides and currents will reshape my senses, and loosen whatever plaque has built up in my mind. I will reset my internal clock, sink into a quieter way of being, forge new connections with myself and others. I will relearn what it is to be me, and the true meaning of 'staying put'. I will have permission to unplug and be accountable only to the here and now. I will walk beside those who may or may not know they have come to do the same.
We will be washed clean by this wildness, find space to breathe more fully, and will leave distractions and  trivial concerns behind. We will remember what matters and heed our own truth, which is simple and elemental. It can be found in wind sculpted stone, in the confluence of salt water and sand, and in the potential energy of a building storm over mountain passes.

As I approach this transition, I may sometimes crave the safety of the harbour, but this ship is made for more than that.