To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest.
For a few moments, take a few steps with me. I want you to see what’s happened to us. It’s a story, I guess, that I want to tell.
You’re familiar with a map, right? You’ve seen a trail guide? You’ve seen the lines and ridges and directionals that tell the reader they are headed somewhere. It’s there on paper, really and flatly and permanently. If you’ve got to go somewhere consult the map. Consult the guide. Find your directions.
There is a “You are Here” and there is a “Route Ends on the Left”. What happens, though, when you want to follow your curiosity? When you want to follow a journey that is, perhaps, slippery, fresh, less-than-clear? What if your journey involves other passengers, and big cargo and not-so-big cargo, and cargo you’d rather part ways with? A lost ticket rode in on the breeze and tangled itself up right in front of us. We’ve grabbed it. So what happens when your travels find you?
Let life live through me.
I’m finding out. I’ve got my ticket. My husband and the kids have their tickets too. We’re about to say a few symbolic goodbyes (because with true friends and family there is never a real goodbye), close a few doors, open a few suitcases and let the new blossom unfold. It’s just like a map really, once you open it the thing never folds up just like it used to. But that’s ok. It won’t do you any good folded up, anyway.