Professionals in the moving biz don’t call it “moving” anymore. They call it “relocation,” like you can just get picked up from point A and put down at point B with none of the associated dizzying messiness and having to work to stay over your feet.
I have a lot of uncertainty these days. I don’t know what the hell is happening on so many fronts.
I felt a little more peaceful when I envisioned my life as a raft, like the Kon-Tiki upon which Thor Heyerdahl floated from South America to Polynesia in 1947. If I just stay on the raft, keep hoisting the metaphorical sails and don’t fall off into the ocean, I will eventually reach dry, stable, predictable land again. It’s just a matter of time and patience. And waiting.
But what if my raft is a flawed metaphor? The raft encourages passivity and resistance to the current state of affairs. The raft encourages just waiting it out rather than engagement.
What if there’s no such thing as stable predictable land anymore, if there ever was? What if the only thing that lasts really is impermanence?
What if what I need to do is learn to live on the damn boat?
What if it’s Waterworld, not the Kon-tiki??
Friends, I’m going with Waterworld, because that metaphor opens up my heart and frees me up. But not the bleak post-apocalyptic version. If you’re in Waterworld with me, let’s make it full of Joy, and Beauty, and Communion, and Love in so much abundance! Our Waterworld is an ocean-based love-fest, where we work and sing and dance and make art and take care of each other and keep each other warm and dry and thriving. It’s Waterworld, with grace and healing everywhere, for all.