Adieu

Saying goodbye is an inevitable part of the journey. This is not without reason. Goodbyes are so hard--you don't know how much emotion to show, what to say in those last moments. You are torn between navigating grey emotional area and honoring the present. Sometimes goodbyes are silent cognitive tips of the hat to one another. Sometimes they are curt and rushed because of a welling tear. Sometimes they aren't realized until you remember the last time you saw their face when you casually waved goodbye. Sometimes they are full of tears, and deep belly giggles; the kind when you have to get out of the car multiple times and run into their arms, squeezing and soaking up each others energy. 

I have said many goodbyes these past weeks. I bid farewell to my family, to college-life, my apartment, the rolling Missoula belly-trails I trampled life-miles on, silly thirsty-thursdays, lenient schedules full of yoga-workshops, infinite intriguing reading assignments and hour long runs. Today, I said goodbye to my two dear friends. And I've recognized how much I have changed even in the time of my knowing them; also, how my relationships have facilitated a 'settling' into myself. And although I am anxious as to what the future holds, I must remember that the good ones never get away. 

It feels like a whole life is ending and in reality that is true--because you never come back the same person after the world shakes up your soul-bones. I've found that anticipating that deep change is like a drug; it heightens your senses to the blessings around you. And I've learned to not fear change or goodbyes because the ones who really matter morph right along with you, flourishing in themselves. And when you meet again as Whole Beings, you can reflect on the progress and celebrate how life always rings round. The night before I left for NZ as a 16 year old, I went to the movies with Mom and my sisters--there is a quote from that movie, Benjamin Button that has always stuck with me, 

"We have to lose the ones that we love--how else would we know how important they are to us?"

And it is poetic in that all endings sprout new beginnings. We can't hold on forever, but have to adapt--transform our relationships and keep on growing. Holding on engenders pain. We must surrender to the flux of change embrace the new while honoring the necessity of the old. Slowly building blocks, priming for a celebration of the glorious present self. Change is scary, but stagnation is scarier.