I'll say this, for starters: I am not in a "bad" place. I've been in "bad" places before, and I can say with certainty that this is not one of them. Things are different, though. It's hard to explain, but something imperceptible within myself, something as-yet unnamed somewhere within my psyche -- call it intuition, call it wisdom, call it my soul -- has awakened; and with that awakening, if you will, has come the knowledge, and the conviction, that I have entered a new stage of life.
I detect that it is time for me to attend more fully to living in this world, if that makes sense. I've been very focused on, and immersed in, very heady and nuanced matters for a long, long time. It feels as though I've been wandering through a forest, if you will; I've been wandering through a deep, sometimes dark, often beautiful, and mysteriously nuanced forest for the past 15 or so years, by my calculations. And quite suddenly, I'm in more of a grove, and there's a path that leads out of the grove.
Put another way, it feels as though I've completed a necessary task. I succeeded perfectly, in that I experienced exactly what I was called upon to experience. Every misstep, every banal moment of avoidance or idle silliness, and every tragedy, torment, and triumph was completely necessary. I experienced exactly what I must have experienced in order to bring me to this present moment, which, I trust, is precisely where I need to be. And you know what? Even if I'm wrong about that last point -- if I'm horribly off course -- then there isn't anything I can do about what's happened up 'till now. If nothing else, then, I've learned what it feels like to truly accept, which, I suspect, is no small feat.
I can't help but feel some sadness at this inflection point. It is the sadness of mourning. I have lost much, and have been obliged to thoroughly reorient my life on a number of occasions. Now, let me say, very clearly, that I chose those things. My sadness is not the sadness of one who believes oneself to be a victim of circumstance: no. I chose my life's meandering path, and participated fully (or, at times, incompletely) in it. I own that; but that does not preclude me from feeling sadness, nor does that strip me of my right to feel sadness.
What's next? I don't know. What I do know is that it's time for the rubber to hit the road, so to speak. It's time for me to apply all the lessons I've learned, and all the skills I've gleaned, bit by bit, and step by step. My Spidey Sense tells me I'm in a good place: I feel a day-to-day consonance that I have only fleetingly felt before.
The other day, I recorded some of my thoughts for my personal benefit, as I am wont to do. I spontaneously spat out a metaphor that rung true to me at the time, and that reoccurs to me now: if one's inner world is a symphony, it is incumbent upon one to assemble the external pieces of the orchestra that will play in the same key as one's symphony. That is to say that I must choose, where I may choose, circumstances that reflect, and are in harmony with, my inner life. The circumstances I assemble will, in turn, influence and modulate the symphony of my heart, mind, and soul. In this manner, then, do I dance with life.
That all being said, this point of inflection transcends any circumstantial flotsam and jetsam (not to make light of circumstances). Far, far below the surface, and far, far below the depths, and far, far above the stars, is a quiet, conscious sanctuary, the scope and might and simple beauty of which I have only begun to grasp. What I have perceived, however, is that the nature of this place, in part, is in its constancy: it is ever-present. It abides all. It transcends any circumstance. It is my touchstone. It is my wisdom, my self-knowledge, my clarity. It is my sanctuary.
And so, as I journey forth into the world as never before -- more fully cloaked, and more fully vulnerable -- do I simultaneously deepen my roots within myself.