The horizon you cannot see yet.

I pack my life into boxes one more time and thank the walls that have held me for the last few years. As I prepare to let go, once more, my hands open to release what is and open to receive what is coming, I remind myself of this:

Like the seasons, everything moves.
Places you once called home become stories about
Love that widened you
and loss that hollowed you.
People arrive and undo you.
Crack you open to love, joy, grief, shadow, tenderness.
It’s all thread in the same tapestry.
Let it all move through you.
Let it flood your cells with colour.
Let it paint your bones.
You are making a melody of your life.
Pour yourself in.
Murmur love into the ordinary moments.
Create from the deepest place you know and be ready to release it when the time comes.
Life is made of passing things.
Everything is temporary.
So when life offers you something rare, don’t allow fear to keep you from receiving it.
Honour it.
Tend to it.
Offer your whole heart, trusting it will be returned, risking that it won’t.
Hold lightly.
Release gently.
Let joy and ache dance without choosing sides.
There is no final landing.
No arrival.
Only cycles folding into cycles.
Trust the road.
Surrender to the call.
And when life asks you to, begin again.
When grief visits and when you feel unanchored,
write from the horizon you lost and towards the one you cannot see yet.