A window we stare out of, the road we want to cross,
the city we want to move in or out, a mountain we want to climb,
things we want to end and start, the change we crave,
a letter we dread, the call we anticipate,
a flight we plan to take, that fight we want to stop,
a version of ourselves we have not yet explored.
This side we dream of the other side. When life takes us on the other side, we look back and forth, perplexed and thinking what is next. A little worn out. And yet, something stirs.
The rear-view imagine of the storm behind or the should I look ahead into the blue sky. But why is this ache? Do I begin again or I sob on what’s gone by? Should I peer toward another edge or dream of my next.
Maybe this is what it means to be alive. To be in motion, even when still.
To keep reaching, even when there is enough. To flow with time and find that strength within. For our soul guides us through to a place where no one knew.
My heart says, maybe the other side is not a place. Maybe it is a mirror of my mind. Maybe it is the part of me that hopes and dreams.
How do I begin again? Should I dream of my next? Will it always feel this way, half full, half longing?
For maybe the soul already knows, guiding us through quiet nudges, to places no one else imagined for us. I may sound naïve. Because even that… is part of being fully alive.
A new day unfolds, the tea that goes cold as I scroll through life. The suitcase that is waiting to leave home. The job to show up to, and the craft I have yet to begin.
Looking on the other side and seeing people I left behind. Sometimes, it is reaching out to the version of me I abandoned when life got rough and loud. It is tough to talk about the grief of becoming someone new.
As the moon rises on both sides. The river flows without choosing its side.
Maybe life is not about crossing over, instead it is letting the current carry us to where we really should belong.
On the other side, we often find that clarity does not come so easily, rather in small tiny moments or as a breath I was holding for too long.
The window is still there.
The road, the mountain, the letter, the call.
But now, I sit differently.
Not because I have figured it out, rather I should stop waiting for the other side. Be at peace with this new side, even if something is left behind and a lot more remains undone.