Arrivals

If nothing else, one of the great things about departures is that they are bracketed by arrivals. Arrivals into the welcoming arms of friends and those who love us, out to the beautiful wild places, and back into the homes that make us feel safe and comfortable. When we have been to the high places where life cannot be sustained over time, we get to arrive back to the verdant green of the valley.  When we have drifted out to sea to find the perfect wave, we eventually come back to the beach, washed clean and better for the pummelling offered us by the surf. But also grateful for the firm ground once more beneath our feet, revelling in the smells of saltwater sinking into sand.

Today, and for the past while, months, or years perhaps, internally if not always externally, I have been cultivating a steady state. That with all the arrivals and departures that I do, there is something calm and grounding in the centre of it all. I possess a certainty that does not lie stagnant, but flows and shifts and peels away again and again in the storm seasons. It's possible there are patterns emerging, one story along those lines is that in the past few years I have been broken open in some ways, and have been allowed to see another vessel within myself. It is a blossoming of sorts. I have come to be more trusting, in part because I have been presented with untrusting and untrustworthy circumstances. I have seen them this way for a time, then suddenly or slowly had them dissipate or shift, leading to a new understanding of myself and hopefully of others. So now I am less afraid of the anger, pain and grief that wells up in the times of departure, as I know I can and will find my way home. The risks of the launch may always be worth it, if we choose to accept the call. All the things that have led up to this moment could be seen as offerings, all the moments of joy and heartbreak, sadness and giddy absolution sent to dishevel all that is static and needing movement and space to grow.

Life is just arrivals and departures, departures and arrivals. And I have come to wonder if we sometimes get them confused with one another, because really we have no idea. Cannot presume to know what is a destination and what is a stop along the way. We are always getting it all right and getting it all wrong simultaneously. Even the circumstances of our daily lives could be offering us a multitude of openings, even as they threaten to wall us in. That is the beauty of this ambiguous existence, and our job is to show up more often than not.