This is the end. A little under two months of solitary travel. Two months of growth, change, and renewal. Two months of writing, of reading. Two months of finding myself in foreign lands not speaking the language, but learning nonetheless.
In a few hours I board a plan from New York back to Kansas City. And shortly after that, I will take my completed writing sample to the post office to mail off to the Iowa Writer’s Workshop. I have decided to do it myself. It seems only fitting, after everything I’ve been through. I will send it off with a prayer in my heart and a song on my lips, to loosely quote one of my favorite poets. I’ll send it off with at least one or two tears. For I have accomplished what I set out to accomplish. I have written the best writing of my entire life. I have evolved as an artist, as a human being. I find myself whole and complete for the first time ever. One supposes, too, that I should celebrate. First with family, then with friends. One supposes that a pat on the back is due.
I cannot say what will come of my journey. But I can say it has been rewarding in ways I don’t yet understand. I can say I will go home looking forward to every bit of solitude I can get. And to every bit of companionship.
I believe, through this journey, I have solved–at least within myself–the Modern Problem of Differentiation.
I have discovered a magnificent and ancient secret: the link between the creative gift and inner wholeness. I have discovered how time ceases to be relevant, ceases to be a scarcity, when one lives every single moment in line with their most authentic self, absorbed in their powers of manifestation, creation, and self-generated joy.
I have discovered that life is best lived in love, not fear. Whereas for a long time, I knew of this only in the mind, only in an intellectual manner. But now I have dealt a fatal blow to the old ways. I have struck at the heart of the matter, and found the alchemical potential, the sorcerer’s stone.
The true gift of humanity lies not in power or control over circumstance, environment, or fellow humans–but in power over our passions, in our ability to transmute all that we are into something fantastic, something generative, something loving, joyous, and new. The true gift and indeed the path forward lies in looking out on the world and its inhabitants and seeing only the Self.
I can hear it now–faintly as it is–the song of my soul. Its ancient melody. Its tender notes. Its throbbing passion.
Perhaps upon my return home, it will pick up in volume. It will play loudly in every moment, without refrain. And how blessed I am to hear it!
But I am wrong, so you’ll have to excuse me. For I’m still learning. Still just opening my eyes to this new world. This is not the end. No, no, no, no. How foolish to think so?
This, my dear sweet girl, the flame of my beloved heart… this is the beginning.