When the ship becomes the anchor.

Last weekend I read through some of these archives, particularly posts from the winter months, and after doing so it seems this conclusion has been an inevitability for so very long.

I do not know what is around the bend. I cannot tell if the clouds are scattering or if they’re gathering. But now that I’ve let go, I can see the blue skies so much more clearly despite the hazy horizon. Every morning I rise feeling a little lighter than the day before.

My heart has always floated on the wind. My spirit yearns to follow the river, to see what’s around that next bend. When I walk in the woods, I’m never ready to turn back and go home. So I guess I shouldn’t be suprised that the more I drift, the more centered I am in my spirit…the closer I am to God.

Maybe anywhere the wind blows is all worth waiting for.