A few weeks back, on a solo hike, I felt a distinct desire to verbally express gratitude. But I found myself unsure who to address anymore. I tried on some different names: God, Spirit, Divine, Divine Mystery. That day, I settled on “Great Mystery” and I said my thanks aloud with joy. For life. For the vast woodland which brought me delight somehow by reminding me that I am very small. For my inhales filled with the scents of pine and earth and water. For the flickering light. For wellness in body, spirit & mind. For contentment. For relationships. For feelings. For the present moment and hope for future ones.
There is surprise, at myself for earnestly using such broad terms, which I would have once considered a sign of lostness. There is confusion, as I realize the inconsistency of actively wondering if there is even a divine and feeling shepherded through my life by something beyond the human scale. There is lightness, as I shed explanations that have proven too small. There is curiosity, as I begin asking the most basic questions again. There is surrender, as I embrace the enigma of being human.
There is anger too, at myself and others, for believing and pawning off certainty as easy or even possible. Peace? Yes, it’s palpably here too. And so is anxiety. And my breath. And my blood, running through — me, who I hardly understand, and yet, am.
