All my metaphors look like they are in the process of breaking down. After about two weeks of travel, I've made my way to a new safe harbor (which I will talk about more in future posts) but in a sense, I expect this period of my life to be far more fluid than the last, far more a case of "flowing in the stream of life while rooted." Paradox. Agh! Worse than metaphor, but it seems to be the backbone of my life experience.
It took two weeks to reach my destination, and it's a marvel, in retrospect, that the trip went so very smoothly. It involved cars, buses and trains. It involved one friend handing me to another, handing me to another, and so forth, with several angelic bus drivers and train conductors and fellow passengers thrown in for good measure. Yes, one four-hour layover morphed into a four-minute one, and there was a super stressful connection-making, careening-down-the-platform moment, but all in all, it was a satisfying and smooth journey. I am thankful to say, it feels right. Leaving the east coast, sloughing off a lot of figurative baggage, and putting my feet on solid ground that feels richer and more supportive of growth -- it is, as they say, "all good."
I am exhausted, though. Truly, if you had asked me almost any moment of the last two weeks if I had the energy to take even one more step, I would have said, "no." I don't know whether it is the 62 effect, the "having moved one too many times" effect, the "death in the family" effect, or all of the above. It may take some time to bring body and soul back into alignment. And I have no idea whatsoever what life from this point on will look like. But I guess my message to my fellow 62-ers is, if there is a trip you need to take, and you don't think you have the energy to do it, just buy the ticket, get as much help as you can, then take that first step. You'll land somewhere new, and as you always have, you'll do your best. We have all done our best all along, and I am proud of myself and of all of us.
