I used to think there was a destination in life, that I just needed to figure out the right choices and I would arrive “there.” I believed that if I worked really hard, didn’t give up on people and relationships, sacrificed, got as much education as possible and stacked up the accomplishments, I would be rewarded with knowledge of the way, and arrival would be definite. I longed to be an expert at something…to accomplish certainty…to be excellent.
But I had so many interests and often felt that everyone knew more than me and my energy never matched the beautiful vision I wanted to pursue and I was quick to shrink back from an idea when others focused on the flaws and pointed out the improbabilities of it. Who did I think I was? I couldn’t risk everyone finding out I wasn’t who I presented myself to be. Best to back down and know that the disaster had been averted.
In spite of doubts and obstacles, I achieved. I got awards and special opportunities and autonomy and respect and results. And then there was a death and a divorce and another death and another death and a disappointing attempt at a relationship and then another incredibly sad lost connection and then a pandemic and isolation and uncertainty and so much solitude. And moments where it might truly have been easier to accept brokenness. Who could prove I hadn’t tried—really, really tried.
This is what I know. There is no destination. There are no guarantees. Loving someone doesn’t mean they’re meant for you, even when they love you back the very best way they know how. You could end up alone when you wish to be coupled. Your plans are all in pencil. Life is freakin’ hard, and you will sometimes feel misunderstood and all alone as you try to navigate it.
But I also know this. When you allow yourself to be cracked open and you don’t cover up your scars, truly kind, authentic and compassionate people will recognize, respect, and want to be close to you. Your degree of positive interconnectedness will expand multiplicatively. If you learn to sit with your knot of emotions, if you open yourself to their presence and allow them to rise to the surface, they begin to untangle and release their hold on you.
And then, something amazing begins to happen. While there is still sadness and uncertainty and anxiety and anger, it doesn’t stick to you in the same way, but becomes fluid and ebbs and flows. It’s no longer lodged in your vital organs, and suddenly there’s so much more space for intuition and synchronicity and your mostly pure voice bounces around in your body cavity and echoes and you begin to hear it. And you listen. Mixed in with the hard stuff is joy and curiosity and empathy and desire and pleasure and fulfillment. And the acknowledgement that life is freakin’ hard makes it easier to see how it is also incredibly beautiful.
As I have come to see for myself, we have choices. We can opt to gloss over or even deny the depth of tragedy and ecstasy a single life is likely to hold. We can allow ourselves to break and never really mend when sorrow inevitably lands on our doorstep. Or, full of fear and uncertainty, we can accept responsibility for our Selves and invite it all in, listen to the messages of experience and emotion and allow them to create texture and color and story. And with this last choice, growth becomes the closest thing to any kind of guarantee we have.
I’m no expert on anything. My sorrows aren’t special. I don’t know what lies ahead. The documentation of my grief journey (so far) is not quite complete. There’s still more story to tell. Though I’ve known darkness, my acquaintance with it has, perhaps counterintuitively, made me progressively lighter. For this reason, I am less and less seduced by the idea of easy journeys and guaranteed destinations. Rather, I prefer to attempt to listen carefully to that voice that tells me, “Take this step now and trust that it will all come together at some point.” Dare to desire, accept there will be mishaps, believe that life will be rich in experience. I’m so happy you’re here and invite you to continue this adventure forward. Won’t you continue to be my companion on paths less traveled?
Internal Luminosity 
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