Now, who shall we be?

This morning, I am thinking of endings.

Graduate school is ending very soon now—too soon, the world is rushing, my face, spinning, twirling, too soon—and I find myself in something of a daze.

What has my life been? The last two and a half years have been an incredibly wild journey, filled with intensity beyond what I could have ever imagined. To say it has been an alchemical transformation is to barely scratch the surface. All of us have changed. Profoundly, even if those changes we cannot bear to show the world.

Now, who shall we be? Standing at a door, gazing into the future we get to shape with hands, tired hands, powerful hands, loving hands,

what light or shadow guides us?

           What song of beauty, of rage, of courage,

will you sing?

As you have changed, so too has the world. Maybe fire, maybe water,

maybe air or earth or spirit

alight upon your heart, your mind,

today.

And, still, the stars stay their course. In the vast dark of unknown sky, they are testaments to the lawful turning of the cosmos. Guiding many a hand, yes, those hands that hold your every pain and hope,

they hold stories for you

in silver whispers of night.

           Do you dare to listen?

A ladybug landed on my coffee cup the other day, and it was so absurd and confusing how it got in my apartment, let alone found a seat upon my mug. Beauty and luck wound their way to my placemat.

Something tells me: this is an answer to the very same question that I am asking. Of endings, and the courage to meet what comes after.

          How do I let the beauty in? Perhaps nothing need be done, in the way I think it ought.

          And so, I bow

to a ladybug, dancing

in the morning light, turning

the wheel of truth

on a coffee cup.

Oh, but, you see:

 the things I want to say always come after the fact, when the phrase arises but the moment has passed.

            So often, some version of:

Thank you.

I love you.

May you be well.

            And, so, as worlds change and fate twists us to a shape we cannot spy, I leave you with these words:

            “All shall be well,

            And all shall be well,

            And all manner of thing

            Shall be well.”

Peace upon you

beneath the starlit course

we travel.