On My Way

I am made more by the day. I try to put into practice the lessons I have been learning for the last five years. I read over my own words, only to realize I have been talking to myself, right now, this entire time. It is nothing to hurt if we do not learn from it, and there is nothing to learn if we do not change from it.

If what I wanted was a full life– I have had it. If what I wanted was to test my heart– I have done it. If what I wanted was to see the world– I have seen it. What I want is to make peace with who and where I have been. What I want is to be here now.

There is a simple rhythm to these days that I will miss later. So I try to measure it. Water the plants, walk down to the water, boil the water. I edit and read. I read and edit. The nature of this work is so circular. But the words, like the body, work better when you take care of them.

In a piece from three years ago, I wrote, “I dream of a place where the sea stretches so far to the horizon I lose my footing. Ivy lined, and sun bleached.”

Maybe I was always on my way here.

But isn’t that the case, isn’t that what we whispered in the dark? Perhaps we do not know what the destination is ever, perhaps this too is just a time. But, here there are ribbons of blue and shells to collect and string on fishing line in the window. Here I sleep and I dream and I work, and make love in the afternoon and sit outside as the sun goes down.

I am going to see a psychic this week who one year ago I would have done anything to speak with. But, all of my big fears and questions seem to have gone out with the tide. But, the worry is not that they were here, but that they will come back. When the tide comes back in, will the worry come with it?

image: @joandivi