It’s been twelve years this month since I arrived back in Washington, to the home of my childhood, after thirty-six years as an expat in the Southeast. If you have read Mother Lode, you know the intention was to help my mother move to assisted living that first year, where I would not abandon her, but also I would not be living in my childhood home permanently. But I didn’t have a plan. Inertia is not your friend when you want something to happen.

It used to feel like there was time to make big ideas come to fruition, but this third act thing is kinda kicking my butt. I’ve had a foot issue lately I thought might curtail my hiking, and I’ve been wearing knee straps again on the trail (and off). It’s not just the physical stuff though, right? Are you with me? It’s the urgency—real or perceived—that time is of the essence to try a new creative thing or take that big trip or learn to play pickleball.

What I’m struggling with is where I want to spend however many vibrant years I have ahead. Do I want to stay in the beautiful home on the hill my parents built and that has unexpectedly been my home for the past twelve years? There are certainly very sound reasons to stay. Or do I want another adventure in living. I’ve never, in my 72 years, lived in one house this long, and I’m restless. There are other things I want before I’m old-old.

I spent some time recently with my friend Joanna who is a practitioner of tarot wisdom. I asked her to do a reading with me (my first with a professional). The questions we asked are “should I stay?” and “should I go?” Three cards for each question, with a remarkably clear message. Put simply, the first two cards for the first question were each a contemplative elder (both men) looking peacefully into the distance, the third card was the wheel of life. Nothing bad, all would be well if I stayed  . . . and it felt like contentedly waiting for the last breath.

The second set were a young woman hiker looking toward adventure (yes, “the fool” in a traditional deck), a young woman looking into a well as if asking “what’s next?,” and the third an elder man (“the teacher”) peaceful and smiling. It  made my heart leap up. The interpretation: all would be well either way, but if I want something other than just living out my days, I should pursue the dream of moving toward a future that doesn’t feel easy or quite safe, and to see what else I have to offer the world.

“To not look for what is next would be like going into a library and not checking out a book. Life is a library, with endless stories waiting for us to slip inside,” (Claire Henley Miller, Mile 445: Hitched in Her Hiking Boots).

I’ve done hard and courageous things all my adult life. I’m proud of most of them. Not everything went as planned or as expected, but sometimes letting go of what you thought would be allows destiny to unfurl.

I’ve crossed streams on the trail before, I know how to do it scared. I’ve stood at the edge and scouted a route. I’ve tentatively poked a trekking pole into rushing water and felt the kick as the current flings it out. I’ve taken a deep breath and punched both poles hard into the rocky creek bottom, anchoring them into solid ground, and stretched—or even leapt—to the next rock or gravel bar. I’ve let my breath out while eyeing the next landing spot, taking as long as I needed. I’ve done it again and again until I reached the other side safely. I’ve also seen when the risk is too great and honorably turned back.

I don’t know how this will turn out; but step-by-step, my plan is to
make my way to the other shore. Maybe I will turn back, and that is not a
failure if it’s for sound or inescapable reasons. But I don’t want to
“chicken out” without giving the idea breath.

Here’s to dreaming and courage and to what we can figure out. One step at a time. As always, I would love to hear from you. What questions are you grappling with? Are you settled in for the duration or pondering a new experience? I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

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(Photo credit: Bonnie Rae Nygren, InSearchOfTheVery.com)