Leaving / re-entering

As announced in the ‘About’ section, I’m about to go on a journey. I’m leaving Germany in a week to travel, volunteer and visit family in California, Oregon and New York City.

I’ve traveled  quite a bit and lived abroad before, and after the mandatory excitement, anticipation, last-minute hustle and also melancholy at the thought of leaving friends and places dear to me – suddenly today a feeling of near-comfort and contentment set in.  I know this about-to-go-on-a-journey state of being so well, it actually feels more like I’m re-entering a space that is familiar to me than leaving for the unfamiliar.

These past weeks, I had several random encounters and conversations with strangers and superficial acquaintances – they came to me in defiance of own social withdrawal. I have to admit that I usually try to avoid getting on the same train home with colleagues whom I don’t know well because I dread the tedium of forced small talk. But lately it was as if people were coming after me to refute my prejudices about them! And what do you know: They all had inspiring stories to tell about their own journeys and each one of them admired and encouraged my plans to leave me job in search of something “better”…

Fate giving me some support at last? The unconscious mind opening up to the world now that it’s “safer” because I’m about to leave? My conscious perception of self and world might refuse to agree to either of those propositions. Experience might tell me otherwise.

Be that as it may, my past travels have always led me to a happier and richer (inner and outer) place. I can’t wait to go out and broaden my horizon, and I wish that I’ll be able to transform that outer space into a spaciousness within which will be with me, be me, always, no matter what the circumstances.

I was recently introduced to the marvelous poetry and philosophy of David Whyte and the following poem could not be more appropriate to the beginning of my journey*:


Everything is Waiting for You

Your great mistake is to act the drama

as if you were alone. As if life

were a progressive and cunning crime

with no witness to the tiny hidden

transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny

the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,

even you, at times, have felt the grand array;

the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding

out your solo voice You must note

the way the soap dish enables you,

or the window latch grants you freedom.

Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.

The stairs are your mentor of things

to come, the doors have always been there

to frighten you and invite you,

and the tiny speaker in the phone

is your dream-ladder to divinity.

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into

the conversation. The kettle is singing

even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots

have left their arrogant aloofness and

seen the good in you at last. All the birds

and creatures of the world are unutterably

themselves. Everything is waiting for you.

 — David Whyte


*See David Whyte recite the poem at TED: http://youtu.be/5Ss1HuA1hIk

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