I wish you could see what I see.
It is with tears in my eyes that I take a break from ghostwriting a book to write you this post.
I am outside in the crisp air of Spring Lake, ID on my computer, sitting in a camping chair next to a satellite staked in the ground, attempting to capture every fragment of data to upload a video for the vlog and write this book.
I have had a challenge with the internet all day and I let it get the best of me as my deadline approaches for this week’s episode.
So here I sit, previously irritated by the challenge when the wind picked up a bit, shifting the temperature by ten degrees, enough to grab my attention.
I was typing away and watching the video upload count down “22 min remaining…” and that spinning circle of death just go ‘round and ‘round.
Then, the breath of the wind moving all the leaves really caught my attention.
When I looked up from my dimly lit computer, I saw absolutely nothing. Complete darkness.
It took my breath away.
I imagined myself in an abyss. Being nowhere.
I felt my little body existing nowhere and felt myself floating.
It overwhelmed me enough to stop writing the book and start writing you this post.
Now, the wind has died down and the only sound for miles is me typing on my keyboard.
Right now, I am nowhere but exactly where I am meant to be; hunched over my keyboard, painting this mental image for you.
I love the moments of feeling small and insignificant because the reminder is so monumental.
We are nothing, and we are everything.
Nothing means anything, and everything means whatever you make it mean.
Looking up to see nothing just now meant that life is temporary and precious and when I took an extra moment to close my computer and let my eyes adjust, I saw the outline of the pine trees and the twinkle of the stars.
They brought me back to this Earth.
Back to this life.
Back to this keyboard.
Back to you.
May you make time for the darkness.
May you make time for the mystery.
May you make time for your inquiry.
May you make time to see, or not see.
May you make way for your wonder.
May you make way for your faith.
May you make way for your wander.
Make you make room for grace.
Don’t forget to live, my dear,
Don’t forget to breathe.
Don’t forget to look up from the keyboard, my dear.
Don’t forget to believe.
Life is precious.
I love you.