Reflections

Skipping over 18 hours in Vegas, as I'm struggling to generous about that place and I'm sure there are lovely people who live and work there and I wouldn't want to offend them.

So some reflections about a trip and a coming home penned on the plane back. (And yes the yellow car was our road trip chariot "Bumblebee").

Coming home.
Always there is coming home.

A road trip in the States with Matt, like a 9 day smile. We’ve not spent this long together in an age, and may never again. Just to settle into a mutual rhythm and soundtrack of a journey was to know all we ever had over the last 22 years  and some of what we bring from our unshared lives.. There was an untidy, unapologetic perfection to it all.

Remembering stories,
telling stories,
writing stories.

With all of that is a knowing that in travelling home we find endings  and beginnings. Endings out of beginnings. Beginnings that are eagerly anticipated, accompanied by pangs of birth pain.

Matt the beginning of paid work and that striving of early career, his own place to call home, and someone to make that with. Eager anticipation, uncertainty.

Me  moving into a spacious place pre and post retirement that isn't yet clear but which I'm beginning to lean into. Eager anticipation, uncertainty.

Striving,
leaning into.
Making space,
inhabiting space.

Sitting under the stars last Tuesday night after the Rodeo, nightsky unpolluted by earthlight, Matt reminded me of wonder as he talked about the stars and galaxies.

Fathers, sons, galaxies.
10,000 year old light dying on my eye.
We are at once nothing, and much more.
Much more than stardust
and yet,
as a moment, passed.


There is no ending to this piece, it is at once complete and unfolding and beginning. Our lives as leitmotifs play their tune each with notes and progressions in common and also unique to ourselves. They will keep playing and will continue to watch and watch over the other as we play on for the time allotted to us and then echo again into eternity.

Coming home.
Always there is coming home,
to others we love and whose stars we orbit.
Weary and glad,
Again grateful
for joy and  love and grace.