The Ship

As I look down, I see my children on their ship, each one absorbed in their own individual task, but beautifully working together.

I see their innocence and how they can never fully see how important and beautiful they are. No matter the role or size of the task, they will always question if they did enough, if they did right. Oh, how I wish one day they will feel how their existence alone is enough, and that their freedom to play and explore is their constant birthright.

I see how they enjoy and fear the adventure of life, depending on nature’s expressions and challenges. In some storms, my heart burst in happiness from seeing them enjoying themselves working their roles with confidence and ease, in full trust of their destination and direction, no matter how poor the sight might be. While other times my heart burst in compassion as I observe them struggle after forgetting their purpose and roles. How chaotic and desperate they act without the trust and confidence in themselves or each other, the ship's destination or nature’s course.

But there is always someone there remembering. Reminding.

And together they redirect calmly into their places again and laughter swarms the ship. Clearly seeing again that they never actually lost direction. That they were going the right way all along. The hilariousness of the recognition of their desperation and fear burst through and they tell the tales around the tables so healing can occur for those who did not laugh.

Companionship. Compassion. The beauty of going, and going nowhere.