I don’t know how many times our plans have changed within the last months, even just the last few weeks. In May, we didn’t know where we’d live after the summer. Or in which country.
Now I’m moving south with half of our things.
Not too far south. Actually, to the north of Germany, which feels pretty south from where we have spent most of our last two years.
This has been our life for the last 4 1/2 years since we left Berlin. Moving from place to place, from people to people. Building relationships.
It’s not that I don’t love to be where I am in the moment. It’s also not that I turn my back on people or things. It’s quite the opposite. When we are in a place and with people, we are deep in it. With all our heart and soul.
But, as it is, you make plans and hope for the best, and then life moves on.
Being sad when a plan, an idea, or a wish doesn’t work out is okay. That is just being human. But the lingering—the wanting-to-make-it-work with all force when it is time to let go—that is what gets us stuck and unhappy.
What we have is the now, and moving step by step from the now.
So, when things shift, we let go lightly. Not trying to force the place, the plan, the idea. Instead, opening up for the next step and embracing the new plan with as much energy as the old—not lingering too long in the past, the “what ifs.”
I carry all the places and people with me. Wherever I connected with open eyes. It touches my heart and makes me smile just to write about it.
Like palimpsests—old scrolls scraped clean to make room for the next chapter—the traces of our old stories stay while we write our new ones.
We are beautifully layered in our humanness.
What story is your “now” trying to write?
