WE NEVER really get there, do we. Running, chasing what we thought what bring us peace. Peace comes from presence; even in a storm, the only way through it is to face it.

It’s hard to face what hurts. The words escape us — those to articulate the emotion in our chests or what we truly want from life. The past intrudes on our thoughts like an uninvited guest who doesn’t knock, just barges into our home. So hard to let go, adding cracks of lightning to an otherwise sunny day.

Maybe the future will bring peace. When I’m done with this or when I get that. When I make it. But we never fully make it.

I battle self-critical thoughts, a component of the chronic pain that I’ve felt for years; I expect so much, and when things are on track, I’m inspired. But I lose myself when I lose my semblance of control.

I question if I’m doing enough; it’s exhausting. I treasure peace, and presence, and the slow pace of life. But I expect so much out of myself. The questioning and the doubt are part of the journey. I’ve realized that.

Perhaps at times we need to take our foot off the petal to reassess. We have to pause — step back.

We spend so much time going through the motions that we seldom stop to process life. That’s what I’m doing now. Taking the time to process my life thus far instead of pushing forward. I’m signed up for the marathon, not the sprint.

“The original departure into the land of trials represented only the beginning of the long and really perilous path of initiators conquests and moments of illumination,” writes Joseph Campbell in The Hero With a Thousand Faces.

“Dragons have now to be slain and surprising barriers passed — again, again, and again. Meanwhile there will be a multitude of preliminary victories, unretainable ecstasies, and momentary glimpses of the wonderful land.”

A small portion of our lives comprises crossing some finish line. More often than not, we’re just moving. Persisting. Surviving as best as we can.

Life is continually climbing, just weathering the storm.

Sometimes the thunder rolls incessantly and we gotta hunker down. Sometimes, the day is crystal clear. But I think more often than not we’re somewhere in between traversing the clouded and drizzly land of trials.

Do we wish things were the way they were back home before we left for this strange and foreign land? Are we praying things will be better soon? Maybe. But we’re here. All of us.

We can drag through this land of trials, or we can look around, realize that we’re together, and appreciate that this is life. It’s an odd place to be.

A place where we base our worth on what others say we are. The words aren’t explicit, yet much of life can’t be conveyed with words. We feel the gaze of scrutiny; we compare. We’re just keeping up with each other in a game nobody wants to play, but it feels there’s no other choice.

It’s hard to make sense of it all.

What is the truth. Our truth? The only way to find peace is to walk to our own tune. Trying to allow what’s in me to flow, even if it hurts.

At times, I feel like I don’t know the real me. I just want to be held. Or I want someone to hold. And I wonder if I’ll find ’em. But I’m working on myself and it isn’t always easy, and it’s not always pretty. This is moving forward. Climbing. I treasure this path.

I’m no longer numbing or distracting, but feeling these things that I can hardly understand. In the eye of the storm I find the truth in myself, and it’s painful, and strange, and glorious.

Here I am.

It’s raining, a lot of change at once. Life flows through me. The rain and the flowers blooming, the trees; I see them, and they see me as I am, as a scared child, looking for someone to tell me who I am. But I’m alone, and no one answers.

The white magnolia flowers are wilting away. The fragrance is like honey and perfume, and it grabs a hold of my heart; life is a dream. In the storm, the fallen white petals glisten on the road.

I haven’t made it. I’m not there. In this valley, the storm rages. Unsure of where I’m going, I dance in the rain. The summer rain. And people stare. Some smile. The glistening road. And in this valley I’m alive; the rain on my skin tells me that.

There’s nothing to be afraid of. The embrace of uncertainty is the healing itself. Whatever it is you’re feeling, let it flow. Feel it fully. Allow it. All emotions are okay. Even if it hurts, it’s okay. Don’t numb it, don’t distract, just ask and listen.

Touch the trees, the lampposts, the world like a child; smell the air, feel it in your lungs, and see the others in this land. Engage what’s real, what’s now, what’s within. Be here, wherever you are, and open your heart to what you feel. Don’t stop it. Let it flow. Be a child again.

This is your journey. Your gift. Your destiny. You have all you need; you have what it takes.

Where we give our attention is where we give our energy. Breathe into the heart. Embrace an elevated emotion, and focus your attention on what you’re grateful for now.

I won’t be afraid. So much love surrounding me. Flowing through me. I’m alive; processing. You know who you are without the pain. You’re you. It’ll be a memory one day soon. And you’ll still be you. And you’ll have made it through something truly extraordinary.

There’s so much I didn’t understand about my past. Fear and control are inseparable. I want to feel this. No resistance. Whatever you’re feeling, face the storm. Don’t run or freeze or try to erase. Don’t fight it. Face it. Sit in the storm.

You keep weathering, and then suddenly things change. Everything in just a moment. A single night. A talk with a friend. Or seeing fallen flowers on the road, or lightning in the sky.

I’m losing control, and things are starting to make sense.