Where I am

I've been spending quite a bit of time over the last little while really considering where I am at and where I want to be. There are so many things I enjoy about my life, so much that I truly love, and the impulse is to just keep to the status quo and not change anything for fear of taking a step backwards or gambling on something that proves not to be worth the risk. Still, I know that growth demands change and movement, and stagnation breeds discontent (for me, at least), so I'm thinking that it's time to make some changes and put myself in the position to stretch and grow.

The questions is...what do I want to change? What makes the most sense and feels the best at this stage of the game?

I've been taking inventory of what kind of changes might be a good thing for me and for Riley. Changing jobs? New house? Moving to a different city, which would mean changing jobs and buying a new house? New people in my life? Different relationships with the old? Go back to school and finish my PhD? So much to consider and so many options, all with their own pros and cons.

When I get in this type of self-reflective mode, I have a specific journal I write in, where I've recorded these types of feelings as they've come up, and how they sorted themselves out. It's also where I keep things that help me to begin this process and delve a bit deeper into the core of authenticity that can be difficult to access at times.

I'm not ready to share much from that journal online yet, but there is one poem I come back to frequently. It speaks to me on several levels and has given me courage and strength through some really hard times. I thought that tonight, I'd share it here in case any of my readers need this kind of literary inspiration. It's a fairly well-known poem, and I may have posted it years ago, but it's one of my favorites and it's really ringing true for me tonight.

The Journey
by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.