I often sit at the ocean’s edge and stare out at the horizon as it bends into the curve of the earth. I like to think that if I could swim long enough, or hope hard enough, that I might find myself there, at the end of the earth and that I could approach it, tentatively, inquisitively, silently. I come in peace.
I imagine the end of the earth as the place where calm is found, where the regret stops harassing, where the doubt is silenced, and where the pain of nostalgia is healed by the salt of the waves. The finisterre. The end of the earth.
But you know, and I know it too, that there is no such place as the end of the earth. I could chase that fiction forever as it bends into itself and never arrive. A fool’s errand; searching for the end of the world. A self-inflicted wound; carrying all the pieces of your broken heart deep in your chest while expecting the cuts and bleeding to stop. The antidote at the edge of the earth; the glue that might put you all back together.
In time, I suppose, the shards of sadness shake loose. In time, I suppose, the broken pieces heal even if imperfectly. In time, I suppose, the end of the earth won’t seem so inviting and the navigation of each day won’t seem so overwhelming and riddled with pockets of pain. The photo on the wall that I forgot to take down, the mail that slipped past the change of address request, the lost sock discovered under the bed, the flicker of a memory in my mind’s eye. Life goes on but daily living can stop you in your tracks. The agony of micro-moments might bring you to your knees.
Catch your breath, rise to your full height, move your feet, and walk through this decision. One step at a time with full devotion. Pick your path, make it your life’s work, a pilgrimage of gratitude, in search of what’s next, with eyes alert and heart wide open. This is mine.
I know with certainty that this heart will heal, that this path is bright, and that this choice was mine. I don’t need the edge of the earth. My strength is grounded right here as lyrics from my youth murmur to me from somewhere deep within, faraway, and long ago, “Rest assured this will not last. The pilgrimage has gained momentum. Take a turn. Take your fortune.” (~R.E.M.)