Message In A Bottle
While at the beach you decide to write a message in a
bottle. What would it say? Who would you like to find it?
“Experience is what you get when you don’t
get what you want.”
I think about
it all the time. I think about it from
every angle. I look back at unanswered
prayers, I measure both my gratitude and my sadness for them. I look at my journey and marvel in it,
really. How far I’ve come, the places I’ll
go. All of it is an experience. The
tears, the laughter, the pain. And oh,
the love. The loves I’ve loved. I should have more than one heart to hold the
abundance and loss that has been weighed already in my time. My life is good. I’ve seen all of the things I didn’t even
know I wanted while I was waiting for all the things I didn’t get. That’s my experience.
I am sitting in
the warm sand, letting my toes dig into the Earth, consciously reminding myself
of the journey that brought me to this exact spot. There is blue-green water in front of me, and
nothing, but everything on the horizon.
The sun is gloriously kissing my skin, and my hair is dancing in the
breeze that has wrapped around me. My
clothes are not too tight, I am perfectly comfortable in my skin. I am not wasting time wondering what everyone
must think of this woman writing on a paper on the beach with an empty bottle
beside me, sure of my intentions.
I am excited
about the journey of these words and who they might reach. I wish I could follow the message’s journey
to see what it encounters. Frankly, if I
got my way, I’d follow it all the way to your hands... but I know I won’t get
what I want, so I’ll take the experience of my imagination instead.
I wonder who
you are, and where you are reading this.
I wish I could watch your face while you read my words. I wish I could hear the story you will tell
about the message in a blue bottle you found in your journey today. I want to know the people you will tell. I wish I could see the creases in the skin
around your eyes when you smile like you just did as you kept reading. How old are your hands? Have they held a child? A grandchild? How
many smiles like this one has the world experienced? Somewhere, somehow, in whatever moment that
has connected you and I, I am elated to have experienced you. Thank you.
I have some
hopes for you. I hope you will go to
your people – run to your people, actually.
You know, those people that you share your soul with, the deepest parts
of you that shine when you are happy.
Oh, I hope you have allowed yourself those people. You deserve those people. Those people deserve you. And when you reach your people, I hope you sing
out this story with detail. What you
were wearing, and how your toes felt on the same Earth that mine are touching
right now. I hope you will recall the
temperature, and the air, and the sounds.
I hope you tell your story in full color. I hope you feel the experience.
I hope your
life is filled with abundance, and that you never take that for granted. I hope you are kind to others, even when it
is hard. I hope you tell the truth, even
when your voice shakes, and I hope you are brave. I hope you know true friendship, and the joy
of belly laughter and tears. I hope you
know soul friends like I have. I hope
you have sacred moments between you and others that you wouldn’t dare share,
and moments that you sing out to the choirs of angels that long to hear your
voice. I hope you love. I hope that you are whole.
I hope you don’t
just watch the world go by, but run with it.
I hope you live it, all of it.
Smell the smells, taste the things that touch your tongue. See everything you can. Watch sunsets and sunrises. Hear children
laughing, and the voice of your mother comforting you. Feel your fathers embrace. Climb mountains that seemed to once be only
in your way. Stand at the top and shout
your accomplishments. And while you are
there, for goodness sakes, enjoy the view.
Be humble, be kind. Be every
single part of the experience you found when you didn’t get what you
wanted. Use Journey as a verb, not a noun.
Go on
now...
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