It is both painful and glorious.
To do the work for which your heart burns.
To pour out, day after day.
Effort, words, presence.
And at night you fall into a deep slumber
Your dreams filled with a sense of being seen. Acknowledged. Celebrated.
Somedays they come true.
Most often, they don’t. And it stings.
But this is the very blessing of the whiplash.
The noise, the inconvenience, the sharp snap
Commanding you to sit up and take notice.
Inviting intentional breathing exercises to get through it all.
Inhale gratitude. Exhale promise.
Like fuel for the road, it floods your bones.
On these days, my dreams are of a different kind.
I dream of solitude, comfort, anonymity.
Where I make maps in my mind.
Travel the roads in my own thoughts at ease.
You can’t have one without the other.
Split it right in the middle.
And right at the core,
That is where you find your joy.