The plane lands. The boat docks. The train whistles as it arrives at the station.
You step off. Pause. Look around.
Friends and loved ones wait with brilliant smiles and open arms to welcome your return. They look just like the pictures you carried in your mind, and yet… The station looks just like your memory of your departure, and yet…
Is this home? The place you left? It feels different, but you know it has not changed. No, you have changed. Or rather, you have become more yourself, and you do not yet know how to share this new, deeper you-ness with these specters of an earlier time.
You have crossed oceans, scaled mountains, fought dragons, and befriended shadows. You have faced challenges you could not imagine, and you have learned your strength.
But this. This seems insurmountable. How can you possibly carry your lessons back? How do you return?
Reintegration. Maybe this is the hardest part of the journey. The return.
I know this. We all do. It’s archetypal stuff. Gather so much beauty, so much wisdom, so much knowing—but then, how to bring it home, into the body, into the mind, into the world?
The heart opening, horizon shattering, mind growing is the first step, not the end of the road. For every obstacle we overcome, there is a higher one around the bend. For every road we walk, there is a longer one still to travel. For every difficult journey we complete, there are yet more turbulent waters to navigate up ahead:
The return.
Everything that follows.
We come back from our journeys changed. More sombre, or more joyful. Heavy with nostalgia, or lighter with all the baggage we have dropped along the way. Wiser, or more innocent—or both.
We live more lifetimes than we could hope. We die small deaths, traverse dark nights, emerge at dawn with new perspective. None of it matters, and yet—I go on, we go on, because the sun still shines. Because the leaves still whisper. The birds still call. The guitar strings still vibrate.
Just as they have always done.
And so we still follow rules of time, of dress, of conduct. We still shine, speak, sing, dance, play—just as we have always done. But we feel like crying and laughing both, because we won’t be the same. We will never be the same.
We have traveled far. We have met dragons. We have shed the layers of ourselves, and now we put them back on. Now we return, full of questions.
We have said hello to the unknown and moved beyond it. We have touched secrets and tasted their blessings on our tongues, our skin, our hearts.
One thing is certain. There is no turning back.
Beach Photos Used with Permission from A Different Story Studio
Comments
One response to “How to Return when there is No Turning Back”
Thank you so much for sharing, please please keep doing this. This kind of project brighten the world. We get to share feelings and ideas, something we are missing now days.
This concept of coming back amazed me, it has been in my mind for a while. Around it I’ve developed the idea that we are socially defined. By saying this I mean that we as humans are shaped by other people conciousness and we agree with them most of the time. Every time we leave a place, we left behind this idea of who we are. An idea that lives frozen in the heart people we have met. As we walk, we keep collecting and developing our idea of ourselves. When we finally come back we are no longer the same. We were shaped by the dragons eyes, by every rising sun, by every person we have met.
Here we are, turning back to a place and people that once defined us. We both kept pictures but really we never came back the same. Every moment is fleeting, love the presence on it.