When it is your door, it will swing open effortlessly on its hinges and summon you through, towards the light that is a direct reflection of the light that is within you.
When it is your wave, it will swoop under you, lifting you up as it swells and grows and you will swell and grow as the shore you have been dreaming about appears on the horizon.
When it is your song, you will recognize the lyrics before you even hear them, because you wrote them—in a dream, in a moment of clarity, in another lifetime, you wrote them—and you danced them alive.
When it is your moment, you will feel the soles of your feet wake up, as the ground they kiss, kisses them back and whispers, “yes, this, now.”
When it is your mountain, you will reach the summit and your legs will throb from the hike but you will barely feel them because the view…oh, what a view.
But, when it isn’t.
When it isn’t your door, your wave, your song, your moment, your mountain, you will forget all of this.
You will bang your fists and stomp your feet and dive too deep and stumble on your words and your bones will be heavy and your feet asleep and the view will be obstructed by thunderclouds.
It will all feel so hard. It will all feel so wrong. And you will know not what to do.
So this, my friend, this is what you do:
You stand very, very still. You become very, very quiet. You take breath after breath after breath until your fists stop banging and your feet stop stomping and your body settles in space.
Then, you look down, down, down at your feet on the ground, and you remember (please remember) that this is your road.
It may not be your door, it may not be your moment, but it is always your road.
The road that was carved just for you. The road that has, as its mission, not only to guide you, but to grow you.
To grow you up.
To grow you wide.
To grow you strong.
To grow you wise.
This is why there are doors that don’t open and thunderclouds that obstruct the view—because your road wants you to know you. To know how resilient you can be, to uncover who you really are.
A brave, brave spirit doing work called “human life.”
It may not be your wave today, it may not be your mountain, but it is always your road.
Rising up to meet you.
Leading you home.