The Journey

Salzburg, Austria, 2OO9

Have you ever read something that has changed you?  

Have you had words from a page stir endlessly within you after drinking them off the page?  

St. Rèmy, France, 2OO9

My dear friend, Maren, gave me this poem several months back.  The poem's stark words resonated so deeply within me that I find myself rereading it and thinking of it often.  Thank you, beautiful friend for sharing it with me: it has changed me.  

"The Journey" by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice ---though the whole housebegan to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. ‘Mend my life!’each voice cried.

But you didn’t stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice, which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do – – –

determined to save the only life you could save.

France

My Journey

Living life is a beautiful journey.  Yes, its path can be laden with stones, branches, and gusty winds, but they all give meaning to the journey.  It is not a journey if there are no points to look back upon or move forward towards.  Our journey encompasses moments of euphoria and moments of struggle: together they make us realize just how beautiful and delicate life is.  This is the only life we are given, and we are influenced and changed by all parts of our journey.  Our journey makes us who we are. 

France

Why?

I don't ask "why" I have CF.  Instead, I am grateful for each day, each trial, each experience, and most of all, each relationship: it's all just a part of my journey.  Some days the path on my journey feel impassable. Storm clouds seal the sky. The heavy rain makes it hard to see the path: where I am going or where I have been.  The wind has no mercy.  The path has been littered with broken branches, leaves, and has been flooded from the downpour.  I am paralyzed.  But then?  The clouds begin to break and the light of the stars reflect upon my face.  Suddenly, the path is illuminated from the bright moon: I can see from where I came and where it leads.  Living life can be a beautiful storm, but it makes the stars seem that much brighter.  

Austria

I have CF, and it may cause some storms along my path, but it does not define my journey.  What does define my journey? Every beautiful breath.  Love to you all. 

Take today and appreciate your journey: where you have been and the path still waiting to be explored.