Becoming

I have been on a four-day retreat in the mountains of western North Carolina, a gift from a fairy godmother of mine. I come here several times a year as part of a two-year commitment.

I never want to come. There is almost always some scheduling conflict which requires me to choose this over something that seems more fun or important. I miss and worry about my children. The tiny plane that flies me into the mountains makes me claustrophobic. I become convinced that something terrible will happen to me or my loved ones while I am gone. I am anxious, restless and distracted for much of the weekend. I arrive late for lectures, doodle instead of taking notes, and wonder what the hell I am doing here. I resolve never to come back. I am Gollum in the elven rope. It scratches, precious, it burns.

Then on the very last day, I learn something huge about myself, and my heart grows two sizes. I go from Gollum to the good Grinch. Not much different looking on the outside, but changed. Have some roast beast.

I have a plane to catch, and no time to get into all of it. But consider the photo below a postcard from me. If you could flip it over, you might see this hastily scribbled note:

Become that which you are.

Love, Kyran.