Travel essentials and learning to let go

Ordnance survey maps marking the trail we've laid out: check

Guidebook for exploring small villages and historic points of interest encountered along the way: check

Nuts and dried fruits as energy-supplying provisions for the trail: check

Sunglasses for keeping out the glare of this unusually, sublimely sunny summer day: check

Daypack: check

Mobile phone: check

Ovulation test for surreptitious use in whatever public bathroom might be encountered en route (purpose obvious): check

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Yesterday, on what has surely been one of the warmest, loveliest days of that mythical beast that is the English summer, H and I decided on an impromptu away day. I was getting myself in a knot about job prospects and baby making and The Future and how they all fit together. None of which will find any resolution through my worrying; so okay, why not get outside my own head for a while? And what a wise suggestion H's was. We went here:

Starting the hike

Through the perfect sunny day we walked twelve kilometres, keeping the sea on our right and the gentle rolling farm fields to our left. And the sun shone and warmed our stiffened bones and the soft sea breeze blew up from the coast, cooling us down and emptying our heads of all their anxious contents. After the first few kilometres our feet began to tingle with that pleasant ache. It was a day full of small gifts. We foraged marsh samphire that will become tonight's dinner. At a bird sanctuary near our final destination we were lucky enough to see not only puffins (I've always wanted to see wild puffins), but dolphins and even a glimpse of a whale.

It was one of those rare, random days of utter bliss. I felt insignificant and calm and very, very fortunate. I felt deep gratitude. As always in such surroundings, I felt very close to S, as though his presence was everywhere, interwoven with the warmth of the sun and the vibrant colours of the wildflowers and the lapping of the waves.

And with all this filling my heart and my lungs and my head, I didn't think of appointments or interviews once. It's hard to when you have views like this:

Starting to feel the burn

We encountered one beautiful, secluded cove...

...after another...

...after another.

Here be pirates!: Smuggler's Cove

Whenever I see one of these, I think of S

Lunch time: a bench with a view

Unlike it's cousin the public footpath, the one on the right will let you eat chocolate cake for breakfast and stay up past your bedtime

The trail

Friendly faces along the way.

A well-earned rest

The end!

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So much of life is about learning to let go, and we often assume that this process can only be a painful one; that letting go is tantamount to quitting.

But there are so many ways in which this process is brave and fertile and creative and healing. Letting go of expectation to make room for possibility. Letting go of fear to make room for hope. It's an expansive gesture about flinging your arms wide open to receive whatever the universe has in store. 

The entire journey of grieving the loss of S has been one of letting go for me: letting go of the grief/rage to make room for the grief/love. Letting go of the dreams I had for him as a child who would grown as our family did, to make room for an acceptance of the fact that while he'll never grown physically, he's become a part of our family in ways we never imagined; his brief life a source of inspiration, a reconnection to the spiritual and the magical in life.

It's never an easy process and I don't have any answers as to how it can or should happen. But I do know that when all those why?why?how?when? questions are running circles in my brain, building into ever tighter coils of tension until I lose sight of any of the reasons for why I am seeking something in the first place, there is no better antidote than to leave myself for a bit, to place myself in something much bigger, that makes me and my problems feel small, the worrying seem futile. That makes me breath deeper and just know: things are unfolding as they will. And yes, you are going to be ok. 

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On Monday afternoon, after discussing it with H and allowing your gentle support and encouragement to rest with me, I emailed the organization who offered me the interview. I explained that I had a prior, unavoidable appointment which had been scheduled well in advance and which would prevent me from attending the time they had initially set, and wondered whether we could discuss alternate times/dates for the meeting. Then we went on our walk, getting up very early yesterday morning to catch the sun and then, (partly because we wanted to preserve the natural endorphin high of the day and partly [ahem!] because that ovulation test came back positive) we went straight to bed on our return. As of writing this morning, they still haven't come back to me, either to say they're not amenable or that they're looking into it. Although it would have been nice (and one would have thought professional) to receive an acknowledgement either way, I'm hoping that silence means it's the latter.

But for right now, I'm going to keep the spirit of those turquoise waters and crashing waves with me. I have to keep learning to let go of the things that I can't change, in order to make room for all the good that I don't even realize can happen yet. And I can think of no better place to do that (metaphorically or otherwise), than such paradisaical surroundings that remind me in the simplest and deepest possible ways just why it is I keep trying at all. Whether or not I can accurately predict what it is right now, something good is on it's way. I'm continuing to let go so that I can make room for a recognition of how much more there is out there, and the belief that I belong in that more and better as much as anyone.