Once, in my wanderings, I came to know a place that held within it the voice of the world like no other I had ever encountered. I don’t know why this place spoke to me so. It may have been the small brook that had, through gentle persistence, carved its way to the soul of itself with a sound like the whisper of grace in motion. Or the old and gnarled maples, still towering and stately, who gave their secrets only to those who sat with them long enough to understand the deep stillness that created and was created by them. I loved this place.
The place though was less affected by the play of the human world than was I, and the time came when I was to leave it behind. At first I felt the recoiling that still accompanies the threat of loss even though the passage of time has taught me often that I needn’t be afraid; new possibility awaits on the other side. I came to understand that this loss, like so many others, was determined by choices and circumstance set in motion long before I had ever known it as a gain. It was never not to be.
This understanding gave me strength and I did not turn away from its heartrending beauty in my final days with the place that had grown into my soul. Instead I leaned in to hear the words this unlikely love of mine might say. She whispered in my ear: Truth and love were not meant to be held in place but to be carried and shared with those who have not yet known them. Take me with you. And fly.