“The security most people take comfort in, I’m not convinced it isn’t an illusion.” -Nomadland
I pondered this idea, waiting for the sunset to make its debut in the Boise sky.
The security most people take comfort in: a home, a job, money, family, friends, a community…
I lost it. Over 4 years, I slowly lost the secure fence around my reality. With my father’s passing, I lost my childhood home, and soon after, my job was cut from my workplace.
After working with a doctor to try and heal chronic illness, who really only cared about money, I lost that security blanket also. Friends and family divided on politics over the pandemic, gone into their corner, waving their team’s flag.
And last, I left the community I had built for myself over 6 years to move across the country to be with a man I was falling in love with.
The security illusion had broken.
I looked up to see the blue sky lit up with pink and orange, painting magic as my brain continued to spin a web through my season of failures.
I was alone in a city where I knew no one, in a valley surrounded by the smoke of forest fires.
I was suffocating. Physically.
Spiritually, I was rising. All the physical senses of what it means to be secure on Earth were taken from me, one by one. I was left to depend on myself. To grow strong. To lean on the Universe. To lean on my inner wisdom. To trust my intuition.
And suddenly, it was clear.
My mind. The sky.
I was awake.
The smoke had left the valley. I was different, and everyone noticed. I went from choking in the dark to seeing everything in shades of vibrant. Something had shifted. The fires had burned down what was and left charred spaces of opportunity. What could be. Who I could become. Better. Stronger. Free from the matrix.
I was enough for me, even if not in the eyes of whom I left behind. All that mattered is that I was becoming who I was suppose to be.
I locked eyes with the twilight sky, got into my car and drove into the idea of an infinitely better tomorrow.
