The journey.
Grounding in those moments when you realize it’s so *not* about the destination…
For months I’ve known that the plan was to move to Scotland, to fly across the ocean to the corner of the world that most feels like home to my soul, something that’s felt too good to be true. And so, for months, I’ve been anticipating the moment when my feet would sink into the sand and feel the cool rush of the North Sea washing over them, the moment when all of me would believe that it’s real — a moment I stepped into two nights ago. And while the landscape, water, architecture, and air all around me were dreamier than I can put into words, I was so aware in that moment that this journey has not at all been about the destination.
These past few months have been so full, full of joy, grief, preparations, and losses, and in and through all of it I have been stretched in new ways, ways that have opened depths of me, ways that have freshly woven depths of me together.
It was the journey coming here that allowed me to hold joy and sorrow of the hellos and goodbyes that this move required, creating space for a rich weightiness that was not good or bad, simply full.
It was the journey that invited me to savor each moment with friends, family, and the Smoky Mountains, knowing how precious they were in the face of a goodbye, knowing that there wouldn’t be a convenient “next time” to relive or replay those moments.
It was the journey that showed me how much unprocessed grief I’ve carried for most of my life, especially from when I moved away from this corner of the world 20+ years ago.
And it was the journey that opened space for me to tend to that grief — to tend to the younger versions of myself that have been so overwhelmed by the sting of loss, fearing they might drown in it if I let myself feel it.
Without these last few months moving toward this new home, I don’t know if or when I would have waded in that grief, along with the present joy, tasting that to feel it all isn’t going to suffocate me, but instead, actually invites me to take a deeper breath.
Every thick and vulnerable moment and emotion has felt like an invitation to be-with being alive, not just going through the motions or muscle memory of everyday life, but instead, cultivating something new, experiencing each moment and movement with fresh vulnerability and curiosity.
And so, as I stood on that beach with the docile waves gently enveloping my toes, I could feel that it was not this place or this moment that made me feel most full or complete. It was the journey that opened me, and the journey that filled me, the journey that made the destination complete.
