So after years of waiting, listening and considering I find myself here. I have arrived at the jumping off point. I see the vista, the land beneath, the sea on the horizon, the snowcapped hills. To take this journey, to let it unfold, I think I never truly considered the cost. Getting here involved more difficulty than I could have imagined. I had visions of airlifts, of nice afternoon drives up the ridge to watch the sunset. The reality was years in the jungle surrounded by thorns, sweat pouring down my face. Nights of cold rain falling while my shoes tried to grip slime covered rocks on the side of the river. There were other days. Days basking in the sun, believing I had arrived, listening to the waves break, the seagulls calling. On those days, I thought I had arrived, only to have the clouds roll in and the west wind pick up in the blink of an eye.

So, this, it seems, is how it goes. A breaking followed by a mending. A laugh and then a cry. Soulmates found, soulmates lost. Where is the jumping off point? How much further? Are we there yet? When will I arrive? I have asked these questions daily. What a surprise to learn that I am already there. I have arrived.

Like most before me, I simply did not understand the undertaking. I did not realize the meaning was meant to be hidden. Not hidden at the summit, or at the waypoint. The meaning instead is hidden along the trail. Beside the flowing river where we could not hear one another call but could feel the cold spray when we stopped to catch our breath. In the valley that filled with water while we slept. On the path where the thorns left us with scars we still trace in the firelight. Knowing this hidden truth, I must make each moment a jumping off point. A place where the vistas are wide, the sea is immense and the snowcapped mountains touch the sky. From here, all the beauty is visible through the light bent by the pain in our eyes. This is my calling, a continual launch from the jumping off point. Let’s see where this leads.