A wise counselor once encouraged me to be a sojourner. A traveler. Not a pilgrim. Not headed to a holy destination, but to a place unknown. Walk for a time, he said, and let the path lead.
I am feeling quite in between right now. Two months in a new city, two weeks in a new house, quietly unsettled.
The boxes are (mostly) unpacked and sent to recycling, the kitchen organized, a few pictures hung. F is off to new work each day, while the hound and I explore the neighborhood on rambling morning walks. Jack pauses often to sniff, too often for my impatient pace, and marks this place as his new home.
Gradually I’ll sort through the long daylight hours and find a schedule that suits. I look for it to include satisfying work as well as time to write, family time, meals with friends, and continued exploratory walks with Jack.
I’m looking not just for a place in this city but a place in the world. A call to follow, a reason to get up with the sun, a sense of fulfillment, even in the in between.
A holy destination, indeed.