You would think that all of that grieving for what we've lost would leave us hopeless. But somehow we're not. Why is that? I feel firmly anchored to my dreams. My mind wanders to what could be. I still have hope. But, also, fear and apprehension. Perhaps I better understand the risks.
Today I walked through town, the sun shining bright on my face and the dog pulling me down the road. I listened to a podcast with Elizabeth Gilbert where she said: You have to remain childlike, but not be childish. The wonder, the awe, the dream, all the possibility -- we have to hang on like little children, but our grief and reality should anchor us and keep us sober.
We have to stay curious. And of all things, that is the thing: Stay curious. Keep seeking. Press on. We may live in those in between spaces, the distance between who we used to be and who we are becoming, but it's not such a bad place to be. Even with the grief.