Into the Mystic, has always been one of my favorite songs. I don’t even know exactly what it means, if it means anything. But I trust that Van Morrison knew. He sang it like he knew. I think. It’s time for me to sail.
A new day began this morning. Back on the treadmill and this time I pushed through the hurty part to the other side. Past what I set out to do when I got there. Thing is, I get up every morning and I have these expectations. Of moving forward. How ever little… always forward. Progressively. I feel like once I’ve seen a certain truth, passed a certain point, that there should be no going backward from there. But that doesn’t seem to be my experience. Not this time anyway. I take two steps forward. Three back. One forward. Two more forward. One back. Like that game of Chutes and Ladders. I have those days… where my steps are sure and solid. The path is clear. And I have Chute days… where I second guess and lose my balance. And I feel like I have to start over. I’d like a game called Ladders and Ladders. I wouldn’t mind the climb as long as I kept going higher. I need a ladder day. Today.
I’ve always seen the fog as a gift. There is a beauty in it that is unmatched. It’s a shroud. It feels safe and exciting at the same time. I love that. On a bigger scale, I want my relationships to be like that. And on an even bigger scale, life. I want life to be like that. Right now, it’s teetering on the edge of both. Changes, right? Forcing me to find that balance.
With all the traveling I have done lately, both literal and figurative, I have paid a lot of attention to roads. Where they are and where they take me and who I am on them with. In all that, however, I forgot about the bridges. Not a big fan of bridges. I don’t know if it’s the lack of sure-footedness, the fact that they are not solid ground, sometimes the height, I don’t know. Yesterday, I was on one. Figuratively. I was at a point where I couldn’t go backward. I couldn’t stay where I was. I could only go forward and that meant crossing this stupid bridge. And for all the yammering I do about faith and trust, I would think bridges would be no problem. It’s taking that first step. Leaving what I know to be solid. Here’s what I saw. Standing in the middle of the bridge. The solid ground is inside me. Not underneath me. Focusing on the other side. Holding the hand of the person who also sits beside me on the roller coaster. And before long. There I am. Over it. One of these days, I will stand there long enough to look over the side.