For most people, the barren landscape of Wyoming is a boring interval, best seen in the rear view mirror. But for me it is a visual retreat that opens my consciousness to wider views—and not just of the land, but of myself.
Embracing the finality of a major life transition is often urged upon those who mourn much sooner than they are able. To our great detriment, we may also do this to ourselves—trying to let go too soon and thereby complicating our grief and prolonging our suffering.
Wisdom is born from a combination of experience and inspiration. Paying attention to experience allows inspiration to drop into awareness. And wisdom emerges when one tells the truth about what one is experiencing.
Welcome change or necessary losses—they are all transitions, rites of passage. And the novel always builds upon the familiar. But only if we step aside for the new shoots to push up through the fertile soil of our imagination.
I wonder if my father ever thought about how differently the future might have unfolded if he had not held true to his integrity and dedication to creating the best possible tomorrow for himself and for all those who depended on him.
Oftentimes it is we ourselves who must precipitate dramatic shifts that feel so much like jumping off a very high cliff into oblivion. This is what C. G. Jung did in his break with Freud, and the full scope of future knowledge about the psyche was set on course for greater discoveries—by Jung and those who came after him.
When dealing with transitions—either those we choose or those thrust upon us—inquiry is the agent that paradoxically accelerates our ability to effect positive change by inviting us to stop for a moment and take stock of what is transpiring.
To live from a point of profound spontaneity in the 21st century is most of all an act of courage. Because once we take off into the unknown that lies beyond everyday existence, there is no telling exactly where we will land.