When it comes down to Monday, I am going to be very very sad to leave. To leave the French couple. To leave Liath and Russ, to leave the Newfies, the Spaniard, the chilly cabin nights and of course the hot water bottle.

For this feeling of looming sadness, I am insurmountably grateful.

It means that something indeed worth keeping has been cultivated.

I would like to live my life like this. To go through and cultivate moments worth keeping. I would live a lifetime full of the pain of leaving a home in order to know that my life has been spent in good, vibrant, purposeful community.

To be involved with something that is only existing in this moment is something that I hope to never fail to express gratitude.

The French couple, Didac, Liath, Russ, these specific Newfoundlands, the books I am reading, this time of year, this Scottish weather, my own immaturities, my current set of insecurities. These beautiful things have collaborated with the universe and are at an intersection.

It is needless to wish this to last forever. Yes, the community and this sense of family is what I hope to reside forever and ever, but not this situation. Not the Highlands, not the dogs, not the people. Because to do so, to wish it to continue, would be to do this present moment a severe injustice.

I want to let it breathe. To let it remain special, as something that is exclusive and precious to this moment. Something that I am not muscling down and forcing to remain stagnant, in dear and wild hopes that somehow I am in control.

I will never go back to the Scottish Highlands. I will never go back to working with dogs.

If again the Scottish Highlands intersect with my life, if again working with dogs crosses my life path, then I shall with open and receptive arms go to the Highlands and towards working with dogs with no expectations.

But never back.

I refuse to live my life coming back to things.

To pretend so anyways would simply be a lie. These moments can never be replicated.

Come July I will be very very sad to leave Austria. To leave my beautiful, enlightened best friends. To leave my talented and stubborn flatmates. To leave all the multitudes of opportunities to travel.

For this feeling of looming sadness, I am insurmountably grateful.

I’m not going to go back home. Back to my Kansas friends, back to my Kansas university, back to Jiff’s natural peanut butter.

To treat life as this sort of pendulum, whereas we must go back to the person we were before, is to discredit all of the progress we have made in our own humanity.

On Monday I am going to go to Austria for a bit, before the next adventure. And then at the end of term, I am going to go to Kansas for a while, until life takes me elsewhere.

Always, always onwards.

Peace and Blessings,

1 Comment on “Always Only Onwards

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