Flight

I wish to divest myself of these weights that pull at my shoulders. Step away from the wreckage that lies strewn all around me, within me, in the broken ties and twisted fates of those who have accompanied me on this journey, for long sections of trail and short. I am ready to let it all go, to release these stories into the ground to be digested and turned into something more fertile. They have served me well, but now I am ready to stop dreaming of the unrequited, the untenable, the angry and departed souls that populate my sleep. They have no more to offer me, and I have no reason to keep them here.

You saw the relief in my countenance before I knew it had landed on my features. Respite. Yet again I am adrift, pushed off from shore, this time revelling in the stillness of these seas. It is quiet here; there is peace, and knowing. In a distance I cannot yet see there are likely storms brewing, building sea states, beds of confounding kelp, but for now I am carried gently, buoyed by these saline depths. Welcomed into the watery next leg of this mysterious journey.

Each time it seems I experience a little less sadness, and altogether less fear. Maybe I am learning that worry will not change the texture of my future, the beauty and the sorrows that lie in wait. I will be found by these things regardless, whether or not I choose to push or pull away, or take an unexpected fork in the road to evade them. What I can choose is whether to revel or run from the beauty, to sink into despair or foster hope in the face of grief. I am not heartless or lacking initiative, I am just following the wisdom of release. Relinquishing control of this vessel, taking my hands from the instruments and trusting it to fly itself for a time. Perhaps that's how it's meant to be flown anyway. It's possible I've mistaken this bird for a machine all these years.