All appearances to the contrary, I’ve spent much of my life close to the shore. I have been content to spend my days around that with which I have become familiar. And yet I notice that my illusion of control and understanding is fading.
More and more it seems as though I left my glasses on the kitchen table: it's not that I can't see; I just can’t see clearly. I have to work harder to focus, I have to bring things closer to me to get what they are, what they mean, what to do with them. And the result: I notice what I might otherwise have missed. Ironic, eh?
So perhaps it’s no surprise that my intuition is tugging at my shirttail to get me to row out a bit deeper, to challenge the current and to trust what surrounds me and my ability to keep my balance. And the truth is that I’m doing that – slowly and not without lots of bumps; I’ve even capsized once or twice.
Still, it feels worth the discomfort, worth it for the opportunity to see the uncharted places – in the world and in my heart.