“Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.” ― Rossiter Worthington Raymond
When I was walking through the fields of the Midlands in England years ago, it seemed like I was literally walking on top of the world, the sky brushing my shoulders, my view unimpeded, the pastoral landscape adorned by grazing sheep. It was breathtaking and energizing; I felt like I could have walked for days.
The wide-open plains in the Midwest can cause eyes to glaze over, but meeting the solid uniformity of those plains is an oft animated sky. Clouds drift lazily on a breezy spring day. Summer thunderstorms crack with filaments of lightning and bellow with Herculean roars. A shooting star burns across an otherwise sedate ink-black canvas. The soul inhales and gapes in awe.
My fangirling of the Beach Chalet in San Francisco started many years ago. It’s partly because I think it’s beautiful and love the vibe, and I’m always with family when I go there, but what really makes my heart beat quicker is the view of the ocean across the street, a view you can see from any table in the house. Never not dotted with surfers, especially on a sunny day, it bestows a mesmerizing horizon between sea and sky that won’t allow you to turn away for long.
If your spirit feels a little shut in and cramped these days with the long winter months and what we are witnessing unfold in our world, you are not alone. Being in the moment is good practice, a great foundation for grounded, centered living, but staying there can be difficult, especially in chaotic and challenging times.
We’re to be forgiven then, for occasionally looking toward the horizon for a gentle, healing pause not only for our sightline but our spirits. We can walk toward a horizon and never actually reach it or know what’s beyond it, but it’s in the not knowing that we find the magic liminal space of hope, a rest stop where we can imagine what might be, what we wish to be.
Divine Ready 