the steam of arrival

I want to be a passenger

again: a person who hears the name

of a place and stands up, a person

who steps into the steam of arrival.

-from the poem, The Sound of a Train by Faith Shearin

I love the phrase, 'steam of arrival.' It's the telltale sound of destination. Time to get off the train and explore new territory.

For a long time now, I've been head-down, solving the problems of life, trying to be committed to doing the responsible things, trying to do the expected things. Midlife came along and offered me two truths to ponder:

1. It's up to me.

2. It's going to end.

I suppose there are a few more truths that warrant some recognition, but these are the two that seem to have my attention.

I didn't REALLY get that 'it's up to me' doesn't only mean that I have power. It also means that others don't have the power I think they do. And it's ok to disappoint, to say no, to not be married, to not have kids (or grandkds), to not live where they expect or have the job they think is right, or make the money, or be sociable or polished or thin and wispy.

I found I need to get off the train of fitting in, pleasing everyone else - and step into my own landscape.

I also didn't REALLY get that this consciousness comes to an end someday. And there's an age at which 'someday' becomes visible on the horizon. I've been listening to Jack Kornfield every night before I go to sleep, so I can be reminded that everything is coming and going - even me. I'm deep in the practice of moving my sights from the horizon to the ground just before me. 

Faith's poem might be about literal travel. But I'm reading it differently now. Maybe THIS is the place where I've been headed all along.