It would be easy to go back to the way things were 7 days ago. It would be easy to settle for a life so ordinary with glimmers, flashes of brilliance in it. Just enough to light the heart up some days. I have been so very proud of how I have couched myself in the raw simplicity that life sometimes offers. How I’ve safely shelved the bad things that have happened and how I can smile at the good.
But this week, I have had the privilege to witness what happens when a tribe of people push just that little bit beyond. I have seen people turn in and face up to inner demons, old traumas and things onto which they have pinned their very core. And I have watched them slowly, deliberately, achingly unstitch that bit from their heart and let it go. I have seen tears saturate faces and bodies curled up in a ball. And I have seen love wash it away each and every time. I have not just smiled but danced, laughed, rejoiced in the good that comes of doing more than simply accepting that sometimes life hurts.
I learnt something this week. I embodied something this week. I have been honoured to see love in action. I have seen it propel people forward and the fibres of it knit some 40 strangers together into a movement. And I am part of it. And it scares me stupid because it’s powerful but only in its vulnerability.
This week I made a commitment to keep growing. I made a commitment to share all I have experienced and learned to help others get there just that bit faster. I don’t know what I’ll share, I don’t know if people will listen. But I do know that, in my vulnerability, in that exposure I’ve dodged all my life, I have a chance of making a difference not just beneath the skin of my body or within the four walls of my own home but maybe within the city that holds me each day, or the country that has taught me so much, or maybe even beyond.
Is it scary? It’s the most scary thing I have ever contemplated, let alone committed to. It means I have to show up. It means I have to continue the work my tribe started, stripping out all the bits that I would normally settle with being in me somewhere: the old stories, memories, mentalities. And as I make that space in me, there will be people around me who move out too, who won’t understand what I am doing. And I will have to forge on ahead, knowing those who want to see me fly are the only ones worth keeping anyway.
And I will have to share all that I see each time I do it. I will have to find a way to share the lessons for me in a way that may be a lesson for you or someone you know now or someone you meet two years from now. And the lesson and the solution will still be the same. I have to know myself well enough to distill each occasion into wisdom, each inkling into something actionable. I have to make it matter.
For two years, I have blithely written whatever comes from the first sentence. Now I have to write with purpose. I have to connect my dots to draw a clear outline of situation and possible solutions for others. I won’t get it right all the time. And I’ll have to use those mistakes to offer even more.
Welcome. This is my life. This is my journey. And it will be an honour to have you along for the ride, be it for a day or years. May we all learn how to thrive with love, grow from love, and learn how to honour the power that lies waiting to take us on scarily beautiful, loving uncertainty. Because the best of life is found just past the edge of comfort, where a new potential can be realised, a new relationship formed within or outside of you.