LEARN(-ing)

I'm hoping that I live a decent amount of years. That I will have the chance to see and do things that matter. That I will have the opportunities that only time can provide. I think that life as a whole is not a journey with a destination, but a process that continually changes. And, yes, we might have a particular end goal in mind, but even that gets tweaked as time passes.

Wow. Why so somber today? Well, I am currently in the midst of a changing and growing period in my life. It feels both long and long overdue, and it's brought up just how much work I still need to accomplish within myself. I've been confronted with so many harsh realities and painful truths about my life and my actual influence on those I love–which is also part of why I've been enjoying rereading Inkling.

Reliving a time of hurt and pruning and redemption is a powerful reminder of what needs refining in my process.

Things aren't getting gracefully adjusted right now: It's more like a blunt axe hacking away at whole swathes of my life. It's a daunting prospect, but it's also full of possibilities. It's more clear to me that we never stop learning, and that–when we think we have–it's time to dig even deeper. LEARN ends Inkling with a poem that I think encapsulates that sort of feeling while also alluding to the fact that there will always be an unfinished air about it.

True healing takes place

When the heart

No longer yearns for words

It could always beat without.

I've thought I've reached this place many times before, and I have–but I also realize that I'm still on my way there and will have to arrive at this same point over and over again. Which is why I've ended both Inkling and this blog series with this piece. For now though: Thank you for reading and for supporting this blog and my writing! I'm definitely not done yet, so check back next week. I have some announcements in store since we've wrapped up our brief overview of my first book, and I'm very excited about what's next.