When I journey by plane, I’m aware that everything is up in the air. Literally, certainly. And also figuratively. What an opportunity to shake things up!
Travel is mundane – journeys can be profound, even sacred.
What makes anything sacred, rather than mundane? The mundane, the of-the-world, can be imbued with the holy. That’s human. That’s divine. That’s the paradox.
We are meaning makers, and we make holy. So the journey is made sacred through intention. My point at arrival is different in substance from my point of departure. I can change any time, any where. But why not ride the momentum of the journey to unravel what’s stuck and view what is ordinarily too close?
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