The real work

It may be that when we no longer know what to do

we have come to our real work,

and when we no longer know which way to go

we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

-Wendell Berry, Collected Poems

Visiting DC this weekend, driving through all the places that still feel like home,
and the hugs, and the stomach busting-laughter...
When you're still newish somewhere you don't get a lot of hugs or stomach-busting laughter.
Back in Cherokee I still don't know where I fit,
or which relationships are going to grow
or what I'm learning,
if I'm learning anything at all
or whether my "gifts" are being developed
or shriveling like a mind unused.
But looking back,
sometimes the blocked paths were indeed the ones that after anguish
led to song,
sometimes questioning it all, even the very foundations of my being,
opened up the space for the light to fall.

So it may be that when I question my dreams,
when even my strongest convictions are aired for review,
when nothing seems certain anymore,
even the hopes I etched in stone yesterday,
that I have come to the beginning of something new, and real.

The shadows have shifted and I am excited for the real journey ahead.