From the burning ghats of Varanasi to my dog’s sickbed in Boulder, I’ve been learning how longing moves through us like a river—and how to follow it without a map
I love the idea of pilgrimage Brad, that we are being drawn by an invisible thread, one we desire even if we don’t know it consciously, the current of the river, the directions of the wind. Seeking is not always knowing, I guess. But on we go, relying only on the humanness of us, driven by what Joyce called ‘the ineluctable modality of the visible’ when all the time the secrets seem to lie inevitably in what we do not (perhaps can not) see. I am held by the image of the sacrum (sacred) honoured by flame and water. Don’t know if that makes sense?
Thank you for this, Philip. I love what you wrote here: "But on we go, relying only on the humanness of us, driven by what Joyce called ‘the ineluctable modality of the visible’ when all the time the secrets seem to lie inevitably in what we do not (perhaps can not) see." What strikes me is just how much more to being human there is when we listen. I am very scientifically inclined. Reality is important to me. And yet, what I discover, as Joyce seems to suggest, is that we need to stay humble around our certainty. Science is incapable of grasping all. And that's the trap. The full Reality is always receding from science, getting more mysterious with every step that science takes. In my experience, when we embrace "what we do not (perhaps can not) see," the world opens up! Great to be here with you.
I enjoyed this piece, especially the wisdom of realizing that the things you thought you wanted were but roadblocks to what you needed.
For many years I thought the pull was to Ireland. All that stubborn blood coursing through my veins. Then I fell in love with Maine and the stories of my ancestors setting up ex pat communities during the French Revolution. High romance, that one. And, still, there is no question that the wildness that is both of those places draws me like light beyond darkness. I still feel the warmth of Ireland and its' people; the smell of salt sea and mist over stone still haunts my daytime dreams of Maine. Yet, more and more I understand that the call is from my life, the life I never lived. Nor am I talking about anything a label would dress up. Or an accomplishment left unfinished. It is the knowledge that for most of my life, nay, almost all of it, I have danced to the beat of others' drums. Without being wide awake to my own life, I shrunk to fit. I feigned happiness. I raised four children and supported more than one man in the process. Yet, all those years, there was an ache. An ache to be the girl I was long ago. The girl who roamed fields with her dog and sat under bridges fishing. Who found comfort in the company of quiet people. Now, my life has come calling. Wooing me back to the girl I left behind. The one who said yes to fireflies and starlight. Who wept as a little girl to the opera "La Boheme". Who found comfort and meaning in the friendship of dogs. I am on my way home, now. I know who I am. I have answered the call. C'est moi.
Thanks for this, Jacqueline, I relate to so much of what you're saying here. (And I love Maine.) I especially like what you say about finally understanding the call is from your life, or Life. The patterns of life are so fascinating, and they could be seen as tragic, if I didn't believe that this simply is the underlying pattern of life: we give ourselves away in our early years, trying to become somebody, trying to fit it. This is how it seems to me, from my experience. We continually turn away from our truth, ourselves, until it becomes unbearable. And then, when we finally start to lean into our lives, our truths, it's almost like a whole new universe gets revealed, and we wonder what the heck were we doing all of those years. Thank you for the beauiful last lines of your comment: I am on my way home, now. I know who I am. I have answered the call. C'est moi. Damn! Thank you for being here. And sharing... :-)
You are welcome. Thank you for sharing, for giving me a platform to come forward with my own story.. This is the conversation I long for. That heart to heart that says, " You are not alone".
So much of life is a two edged sword. This whole new universe, as you say, a gift we never knew we wanted or needed, also comes with an hour glass whose sand is draining fast. This is where I struggle. When we are young, we thrash around, make all those mistakes, build our character, ( if we are lucky), stumble upon a road not taken. When the hour is late, the risks are greater. The mistakes, if we dare call them that, are more costly. Less time to recover, and all that. So, for me, I spend a lot of time with my ear to the ground. What is that call? And then, my life, here and now, shows up. My life is always right before me. HA. Thinking of you and Tommy.
I loved the way you let yourself interrupt yourself with those quotes — it’s like watching someone crack open mid-sentence and let the truth spill out. Genius on a page.
Your “pull” feels a lot like what slow travel has done for me — dropping me into moments where I’m both fully present and somehow already part of a story that’s been unfolding forever.
Sometimes it’s in the middle of the Ganges, sometimes it’s over a pint in an Irish pub, sometimes it’s just the way light hits a wall in a borrowed kitchen. The map stops mattering, but the territory? That stays burned into you.
Wow. I love this, Benthall Slow Travel: "Sometimes it’s in the middle of the Ganges, sometimes it’s over a pint in an Irish pub, sometimes it’s just the way light hits a wall in a borrowed kitchen. The map stops mattering, but the territory? That stays burned into you." Yes, god it can be so hard to see when we are studying the map and igooring the territory. I love how you mention a pub in Ireland in the same breath as the Ganges. John O'Donohue is smiling up there. Thank you for being here. Grateful.
Wow — you pulled that line right back to me in a way that makes me see it fresh. Love your reflection on map vs. territory. And now I’ll forever imagine John O’Donohue raising a pint at the bar with us.
There were a number of things that resonated, but this quotation had a double resonance:
“ You’ve probably had a moment like that too, when the thing you thought you wanted starts to feel like the thing keeping you from what you really need.”
Meister Eckhart has said, “You must give up God to get God.” Our desire always occludes our accomplishment. It is like the old Zen finger pointing at the moon, we focus so much on the finger, the moon is obscured by it.
I have been in similar states and places many times, and it felt a little bit like someone sharing the walk.
There are probably other things, I’ll go back and read again. But I am haunted by the need to given up everything AND the need to do so without recourse to some systematic “method.”. Again Meister Eckhart: “When you seek God using methods, you find methods and lose God.”
Thank you for this note, Steven. I appreciate your sharing these Meister Eckhart quotes. I've dabbled in his writings, but now I'm inspired to go deeper.. On my own journey, I found that I needed the "method" in my early years of spiritual seeking and growth. I needed the method like a baby needs their blanket. It helped me transition into the deeper states now available to me. But eventually we must drop the blanket, right? Thank you for being here. I'm grateful.
If you are inclined to start looking at Eckhart, I would suggest the three books of translations by Jon M. Sweeney and Mark S. Burrows: Meister Eckhart’s Book of the Heart, Meister Eckhart’s Book of Secrets, and Meister Eckhart’s Book of Darkness and Light. These three present bite-sized Eckhart thought in poetic form. They seldom exceed a short page in length and are enough for a day. Sometimes you’ll need to read two or three to find one that resonates, but this is a really good place to start before advancing to the more rigorous treatment of sermons and treatises. Another really good, approachable guide to Eckhart’s thought is Joel F. Harrington’s Dangerous Mystic: Meister Eckhart’s Path to the God Within. I wish you great joy on the journey. And once again thank you so much for what you share here.
Thank you for this, Alix. My apologies for the delay. Tommy, my sick dog, has needed me these past days. He seems better this week. I look forward to hearing what my piece brings up for you. I hope you'll write something. :-)
I thought about Varanasi so often during COVID. I’ve been to Varanasi maybe 5 times or so taking groups on meditation, yoga and Ayurveda tours. Been to India over a dozen times, but it’s Varanasi that kept me up at night during the pandemic. Who is opening the ghats? Who is burning the bodies? Who is walking all those narrow alleys (oh those tiny temples hidden in the nooks!) I learned that only one Priest was allowed to perform the opening and closing ceremonies. I held that in my minds eye, watching the fire lamps in dusk and dawn. Thank you for reminding me of this.
And my heart is with Tommy. I so hope he pulls through. Such an amazing life and connection you two seem to have.
Let me know when you do a DNA test so that I can see if we are cousins in the Wetzler clan!
Thank you for this, Susan. I hear you. What an image.... you during COVID, contemplating the world and specifically the ghats in Varanasi, and wondering who's tending the fires and bodies. I'd still love to speak with you. Can we make it happen in the next two week? we have so much crossover.
I'm still stumbling through the streets of Substack, wandering about, trying to make sense of the landscape. And then this: what a beautiful, breathless read. Your words transported me deep into myself, beyond myself, to that place of no self.
I needed that today.
I needed to be reminded how accessible the universe can be, how close the spirits hover, how thin the veil is. Your beautiful piece gave me sense of other worlds that might coexist with the one our senses perceive.
A few days ago, as I was walking through my garden, I was transported back five years to the old world where my husband still lived. It was brief and transitory but for a few seconds, time fell away and I was immersed in the mystery. Reading your beautiful missive, did the same thing--it transported me into a realm beyond time. Thank you for your generous share.
Thank you for this message, Lee. I love these words of yours: "I needed to be reminded how accessible the universe can be, how close the spirits hover, how thin the veil is. Your beautiful piece gave me sense of other worlds that might coexist with the one our senses perceive." It's really amazing to me how much more life is available to us when we tune into these deeper places within us. I love what David Whyte says about the classic spiritual line: Be here now. Whyte says we are never fully in the present. It's human to be in the past, present, and future at the same time. To feel this! That's what I want. To feel the layers of reality, and be okay that I'm never fully in the present. As the Irish say, the past is never the past, right?
I love "to be okay that we're never fully in the present."To me it means to be okay with our human-ness, our imperfections, our strivings. I remember a time when the people I surrounded myself with aimed for perfection, as if that were possible, as if that were desirable. In the process they got stuck in judgement. Today, I'm working on acceptance--for all of it--even my first world problems, like crashing computers.
Reading this makes me reflect on the handful of times I've surrendered to the pull. The results have always been rich. I think the surrender gets easier the older we get. Maybe because the brevity of life is coming into full focus? Or maybe (at least in my case) it's because there is a soft place to land...financially, socially, professionally.
Thank you for this, Amy. I love what you say here: "I think the surrender gets easier the older we get. Maybe because the brevity of life is coming into full focus? Or maybe (at least in my case) it's because there is a soft place to land...financially, socially, professionally." I suspect you're right about all of this. And--mayb we slow down enough to listen more. We aren't striving so much to become somebody. Maybe that's what you're saying by soft place to land. I appreciate your being here, and sending you ease and grace today.
I rest to savor your words, leaving the work outside… this week I connected with justloveforest in poetry Ga. ( liverly) Google it.. come!! The time deep in bowels of southern air will caress your grief. I live 20 minutes from the mountain with a spare room if need be. Bala offers a healing forest. Providing what you need.. come. Consider!!
Hi, Ellen. It's so good to hear from you here again. I cherish your notes, and I'm imagining your life in the South. How are you doing? I'll google justloveforest now. It would be great to see you again someday. and I appreciate the offer of a spare room. You never know when I'll hit the road and take you up on it. :-)
Magnificent writing with incredibly vivid descriptions of your experiences! My husband and I had a similar life-changing experience when we first visited Hawaii. The spiritual pull of the undersea world and its animals and the land and its people was so strong that we sold our home, quit our jobs, and moved to Maui a year later.
We lived there for ten years until financial realities and the desire to resume our careers led us to move elsewhere. Thankfully, we left before Covid and before the fire.
Brad, reading your words I was reminded of Heraclitus, The Philosopher of Eternal Flow, who said: “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.”
The river he spoke of is the same one that runs through your experience in Varanasi and in the quiet moments beside Tommy. It is not merely an outer flow, but the very current of existence itself, pulling us inward. Your writing reveals something essential: we do not simply choose the passage — life itself flows through us, and in doing so, transforms us.
To feel awake in my body. To feel alive in the mundane. When the map I was following burned up and disappeared into a pile of ashes, I stopped looking for a map outside of my body and started really listening to my intuition. That’s the most accurate map there is. Thank you for this piece. Ir brought me back to my trip to India, the smells, the noises, and the lessons.
I feel like I've lost the ability to clear the mental clutter to hear and honor the longing. Like the longing is something only my younger self had a chance to follow and not really even then because it has also felt like practicality, obligations or whatever other excuse or fear has stifled it. Or I've let stifle it.
Thank you for sharing with such vulnerability. I've been there too. I still go there: to that place of. mental clutter that blocks out the Pull or God or Universe. Sending you my warm thoughts that you may find the way back to it. I totally hear you about fear. That's a biggie with me. I'm finding that the more I lean into my authenticity, the more the Pull is available to me. I'd love to read something by you about this!?
You know, maybe I will write about this. In the meantime, I downloaded your book and I'm enjoying it! I remember the days when Outside magazine was king of the hill during the height of the print magazine. A good friend of my brother's is Rob Story and he used to write for you guys. I was teaching school at the time and Into the Wild was the only book my affluent, white suburban teenage boys actually read. Anyway, memoirs are my absolute favorite books to read and yours is wonderful.
I love the idea of pilgrimage Brad, that we are being drawn by an invisible thread, one we desire even if we don’t know it consciously, the current of the river, the directions of the wind. Seeking is not always knowing, I guess. But on we go, relying only on the humanness of us, driven by what Joyce called ‘the ineluctable modality of the visible’ when all the time the secrets seem to lie inevitably in what we do not (perhaps can not) see. I am held by the image of the sacrum (sacred) honoured by flame and water. Don’t know if that makes sense?
Thank you for this, Philip. I love what you wrote here: "But on we go, relying only on the humanness of us, driven by what Joyce called ‘the ineluctable modality of the visible’ when all the time the secrets seem to lie inevitably in what we do not (perhaps can not) see." What strikes me is just how much more to being human there is when we listen. I am very scientifically inclined. Reality is important to me. And yet, what I discover, as Joyce seems to suggest, is that we need to stay humble around our certainty. Science is incapable of grasping all. And that's the trap. The full Reality is always receding from science, getting more mysterious with every step that science takes. In my experience, when we embrace "what we do not (perhaps can not) see," the world opens up! Great to be here with you.
I enjoyed this piece, especially the wisdom of realizing that the things you thought you wanted were but roadblocks to what you needed.
For many years I thought the pull was to Ireland. All that stubborn blood coursing through my veins. Then I fell in love with Maine and the stories of my ancestors setting up ex pat communities during the French Revolution. High romance, that one. And, still, there is no question that the wildness that is both of those places draws me like light beyond darkness. I still feel the warmth of Ireland and its' people; the smell of salt sea and mist over stone still haunts my daytime dreams of Maine. Yet, more and more I understand that the call is from my life, the life I never lived. Nor am I talking about anything a label would dress up. Or an accomplishment left unfinished. It is the knowledge that for most of my life, nay, almost all of it, I have danced to the beat of others' drums. Without being wide awake to my own life, I shrunk to fit. I feigned happiness. I raised four children and supported more than one man in the process. Yet, all those years, there was an ache. An ache to be the girl I was long ago. The girl who roamed fields with her dog and sat under bridges fishing. Who found comfort in the company of quiet people. Now, my life has come calling. Wooing me back to the girl I left behind. The one who said yes to fireflies and starlight. Who wept as a little girl to the opera "La Boheme". Who found comfort and meaning in the friendship of dogs. I am on my way home, now. I know who I am. I have answered the call. C'est moi.
Thanks for this, Jacqueline, I relate to so much of what you're saying here. (And I love Maine.) I especially like what you say about finally understanding the call is from your life, or Life. The patterns of life are so fascinating, and they could be seen as tragic, if I didn't believe that this simply is the underlying pattern of life: we give ourselves away in our early years, trying to become somebody, trying to fit it. This is how it seems to me, from my experience. We continually turn away from our truth, ourselves, until it becomes unbearable. And then, when we finally start to lean into our lives, our truths, it's almost like a whole new universe gets revealed, and we wonder what the heck were we doing all of those years. Thank you for the beauiful last lines of your comment: I am on my way home, now. I know who I am. I have answered the call. C'est moi. Damn! Thank you for being here. And sharing... :-)
You are welcome. Thank you for sharing, for giving me a platform to come forward with my own story.. This is the conversation I long for. That heart to heart that says, " You are not alone".
So much of life is a two edged sword. This whole new universe, as you say, a gift we never knew we wanted or needed, also comes with an hour glass whose sand is draining fast. This is where I struggle. When we are young, we thrash around, make all those mistakes, build our character, ( if we are lucky), stumble upon a road not taken. When the hour is late, the risks are greater. The mistakes, if we dare call them that, are more costly. Less time to recover, and all that. So, for me, I spend a lot of time with my ear to the ground. What is that call? And then, my life, here and now, shows up. My life is always right before me. HA. Thinking of you and Tommy.
Oh Jacqueline - beautiful and moving. Welcome home.
Full agreement. So beautiful, Jacqueline.
I loved the way you let yourself interrupt yourself with those quotes — it’s like watching someone crack open mid-sentence and let the truth spill out. Genius on a page.
Your “pull” feels a lot like what slow travel has done for me — dropping me into moments where I’m both fully present and somehow already part of a story that’s been unfolding forever.
Sometimes it’s in the middle of the Ganges, sometimes it’s over a pint in an Irish pub, sometimes it’s just the way light hits a wall in a borrowed kitchen. The map stops mattering, but the territory? That stays burned into you.
Wow. I love this, Benthall Slow Travel: "Sometimes it’s in the middle of the Ganges, sometimes it’s over a pint in an Irish pub, sometimes it’s just the way light hits a wall in a borrowed kitchen. The map stops mattering, but the territory? That stays burned into you." Yes, god it can be so hard to see when we are studying the map and igooring the territory. I love how you mention a pub in Ireland in the same breath as the Ganges. John O'Donohue is smiling up there. Thank you for being here. Grateful.
Wow — you pulled that line right back to me in a way that makes me see it fresh. Love your reflection on map vs. territory. And now I’ll forever imagine John O’Donohue raising a pint at the bar with us.
There were a number of things that resonated, but this quotation had a double resonance:
“ You’ve probably had a moment like that too, when the thing you thought you wanted starts to feel like the thing keeping you from what you really need.”
Meister Eckhart has said, “You must give up God to get God.” Our desire always occludes our accomplishment. It is like the old Zen finger pointing at the moon, we focus so much on the finger, the moon is obscured by it.
I have been in similar states and places many times, and it felt a little bit like someone sharing the walk.
There are probably other things, I’ll go back and read again. But I am haunted by the need to given up everything AND the need to do so without recourse to some systematic “method.”. Again Meister Eckhart: “When you seek God using methods, you find methods and lose God.”
I really enjoy your articles. Thank you.
Thank you for this note, Steven. I appreciate your sharing these Meister Eckhart quotes. I've dabbled in his writings, but now I'm inspired to go deeper.. On my own journey, I found that I needed the "method" in my early years of spiritual seeking and growth. I needed the method like a baby needs their blanket. It helped me transition into the deeper states now available to me. But eventually we must drop the blanket, right? Thank you for being here. I'm grateful.
If you are inclined to start looking at Eckhart, I would suggest the three books of translations by Jon M. Sweeney and Mark S. Burrows: Meister Eckhart’s Book of the Heart, Meister Eckhart’s Book of Secrets, and Meister Eckhart’s Book of Darkness and Light. These three present bite-sized Eckhart thought in poetic form. They seldom exceed a short page in length and are enough for a day. Sometimes you’ll need to read two or three to find one that resonates, but this is a really good place to start before advancing to the more rigorous treatment of sermons and treatises. Another really good, approachable guide to Eckhart’s thought is Joel F. Harrington’s Dangerous Mystic: Meister Eckhart’s Path to the God Within. I wish you great joy on the journey. And once again thank you so much for what you share here.
I am a bit speechless right now.
I copied some of your sentences, ideas, questions and your ways in my journal.
I do need to get back to you with a comment worthy for this piece.
I want to sit upon the stage with your words. Oh how timely it is for my time.
Thank you for this, Alix. My apologies for the delay. Tommy, my sick dog, has needed me these past days. He seems better this week. I look forward to hearing what my piece brings up for you. I hope you'll write something. :-)
I thought about Varanasi so often during COVID. I’ve been to Varanasi maybe 5 times or so taking groups on meditation, yoga and Ayurveda tours. Been to India over a dozen times, but it’s Varanasi that kept me up at night during the pandemic. Who is opening the ghats? Who is burning the bodies? Who is walking all those narrow alleys (oh those tiny temples hidden in the nooks!) I learned that only one Priest was allowed to perform the opening and closing ceremonies. I held that in my minds eye, watching the fire lamps in dusk and dawn. Thank you for reminding me of this.
And my heart is with Tommy. I so hope he pulls through. Such an amazing life and connection you two seem to have.
Let me know when you do a DNA test so that I can see if we are cousins in the Wetzler clan!
All my best.
Thank you for this, Susan. I hear you. What an image.... you during COVID, contemplating the world and specifically the ghats in Varanasi, and wondering who's tending the fires and bodies. I'd still love to speak with you. Can we make it happen in the next two week? we have so much crossover.
Let’s email. I’m teaching at Kripalu this weekend but let’s email and set a time to chat! Susanweisbohlen@gmail.com
Every word, Brad. Some call it the hound of heaven. Always on my heels. ❤️🔥
Thank you, Kelly Love that term, which I haven't heard: the hound of heaven. Grateful for you.
You're a great writer. Go, go, go!
Thank you, Carol! I appreciate your support! I'll keep going! When are you coming to Boulder?
I'm still stumbling through the streets of Substack, wandering about, trying to make sense of the landscape. And then this: what a beautiful, breathless read. Your words transported me deep into myself, beyond myself, to that place of no self.
I needed that today.
I needed to be reminded how accessible the universe can be, how close the spirits hover, how thin the veil is. Your beautiful piece gave me sense of other worlds that might coexist with the one our senses perceive.
A few days ago, as I was walking through my garden, I was transported back five years to the old world where my husband still lived. It was brief and transitory but for a few seconds, time fell away and I was immersed in the mystery. Reading your beautiful missive, did the same thing--it transported me into a realm beyond time. Thank you for your generous share.
Thank you for this message, Lee. I love these words of yours: "I needed to be reminded how accessible the universe can be, how close the spirits hover, how thin the veil is. Your beautiful piece gave me sense of other worlds that might coexist with the one our senses perceive." It's really amazing to me how much more life is available to us when we tune into these deeper places within us. I love what David Whyte says about the classic spiritual line: Be here now. Whyte says we are never fully in the present. It's human to be in the past, present, and future at the same time. To feel this! That's what I want. To feel the layers of reality, and be okay that I'm never fully in the present. As the Irish say, the past is never the past, right?
I love "to be okay that we're never fully in the present."To me it means to be okay with our human-ness, our imperfections, our strivings. I remember a time when the people I surrounded myself with aimed for perfection, as if that were possible, as if that were desirable. In the process they got stuck in judgement. Today, I'm working on acceptance--for all of it--even my first world problems, like crashing computers.
Reading this makes me reflect on the handful of times I've surrendered to the pull. The results have always been rich. I think the surrender gets easier the older we get. Maybe because the brevity of life is coming into full focus? Or maybe (at least in my case) it's because there is a soft place to land...financially, socially, professionally.
Thank you for this, Amy. I love what you say here: "I think the surrender gets easier the older we get. Maybe because the brevity of life is coming into full focus? Or maybe (at least in my case) it's because there is a soft place to land...financially, socially, professionally." I suspect you're right about all of this. And--mayb we slow down enough to listen more. We aren't striving so much to become somebody. Maybe that's what you're saying by soft place to land. I appreciate your being here, and sending you ease and grace today.
I rest to savor your words, leaving the work outside… this week I connected with justloveforest in poetry Ga. ( liverly) Google it.. come!! The time deep in bowels of southern air will caress your grief. I live 20 minutes from the mountain with a spare room if need be. Bala offers a healing forest. Providing what you need.. come. Consider!!
Hi, Ellen. It's so good to hear from you here again. I cherish your notes, and I'm imagining your life in the South. How are you doing? I'll google justloveforest now. It would be great to see you again someday. and I appreciate the offer of a spare room. You never know when I'll hit the road and take you up on it. :-)
Magnificent writing with incredibly vivid descriptions of your experiences! My husband and I had a similar life-changing experience when we first visited Hawaii. The spiritual pull of the undersea world and its animals and the land and its people was so strong that we sold our home, quit our jobs, and moved to Maui a year later.
We lived there for ten years until financial realities and the desire to resume our careers led us to move elsewhere. Thankfully, we left before Covid and before the fire.
Brad, reading your words I was reminded of Heraclitus, The Philosopher of Eternal Flow, who said: “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.”
The river he spoke of is the same one that runs through your experience in Varanasi and in the quiet moments beside Tommy. It is not merely an outer flow, but the very current of existence itself, pulling us inward. Your writing reveals something essential: we do not simply choose the passage — life itself flows through us, and in doing so, transforms us.
Jean🕊️
To feel awake in my body. To feel alive in the mundane. When the map I was following burned up and disappeared into a pile of ashes, I stopped looking for a map outside of my body and started really listening to my intuition. That’s the most accurate map there is. Thank you for this piece. Ir brought me back to my trip to India, the smells, the noises, and the lessons.
I feel like I've lost the ability to clear the mental clutter to hear and honor the longing. Like the longing is something only my younger self had a chance to follow and not really even then because it has also felt like practicality, obligations or whatever other excuse or fear has stifled it. Or I've let stifle it.
Thank you for sharing with such vulnerability. I've been there too. I still go there: to that place of. mental clutter that blocks out the Pull or God or Universe. Sending you my warm thoughts that you may find the way back to it. I totally hear you about fear. That's a biggie with me. I'm finding that the more I lean into my authenticity, the more the Pull is available to me. I'd love to read something by you about this!?
You know, maybe I will write about this. In the meantime, I downloaded your book and I'm enjoying it! I remember the days when Outside magazine was king of the hill during the height of the print magazine. A good friend of my brother's is Rob Story and he used to write for you guys. I was teaching school at the time and Into the Wild was the only book my affluent, white suburban teenage boys actually read. Anyway, memoirs are my absolute favorite books to read and yours is wonderful.
Peace to you and Tommy . Much love.
Thank you, Tracy. We will take your offering of peace and love. He's hanging in there so far. And we'll send it back to you, as well!