“A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.” – Lao-tzu

I was hoping to have something profound to say. Perhaps a startling new insight. At the least, I hoped for a little witticism, a perfect bon mot to share, like a chewy piece of candy that we all could enjoy.

Instead, I am faced with this blank page. My heart sits large like a rock, like a large stone stuffed behind my ribcage. The tears sit so close to the surface, my thoughts and actions feel muffled, like I’m doing everything through a fog that won’t leave. I know what it is; this is grieving, and it seems grief is where my fingers are leading me as I click my way across the keyboard, as I watch the words pile up into sentences and I come to understand that this is where I am going: I am here to share the state of my heart.

I have just cancelled my trip to Japan. I was supposed to be leaving in one week to do an incredible walk along the path of an ancient Buddhist pilgrimage. Life, as the cruel joke goes, is what happens when you’re busy making your plans. And now, life, in all its wondrous mess and dirty glory has stepped between me and my plans.

Last night, instead of sleeping, I played out ‘what-if’ scenarios, which of course is still pretty close to thinking I’m somehow in charge and once again making plans (please see the aforementioned joke). But still, my brain persisted in thinking I could ponder my way out of this predicament of needing to stay when I am scheduled to go.

This in-between state of not knowing whether to go or stay is precisely why those religious leaders came up with the concept of purgatory. They knew that it is precisely this kind of horrible floundering, this precarious hanging between decisions, that is an especially cruel type of hell. Clever bastards.

In the end, I forgot about other scenarios and simply tried on either a ‘go’ or a ‘stay’ decision. First I pretended I was leaving as scheduled. I immediately felt the angst and weight of being away and helpless to assist while all hell was breaking out here at home.

Then I tried on the decision of staying, of cancelling all my trip’s commitments (which is in itself a profoundly huge obstacle. I do not like cancelling commitments. I do not. I cannot…and yet…).

When I tried on this last scenario, a huge and very involuntary sigh escaped me. I could feel the immediate relief of knowing that I was ready to stay. That I needed to stay. That, in fact, there was no other decision to be made.

So I have cancelled all that has needed cancelling. Instead, I am unpacking my heart and feeling the ache of all that is.

Trips to other countries, travel for exotic experiences, all of those things can be done another time. But this kind of journey I am undertaking is only available here and now and requires my immediate presence. So today I am taking the next steps on a different pilgrimage; a trip that includes words like palliative, comfort, meds, friendship, history and love.

It is a profoundly sad type of travel, but it is one where hearts are opened, precisely because of their breaking.