One of my most dear friends shared this beautiful poem by Davide Whyte with me. And so today, I share it with you.
We are each all of the possibilities that we can see, living best as appreciators of horizons, whether we can reach them or not.
Yet once we have gotten up from our chair of comfort, moved into those illusive horizons, and begun climbing the path up high beyond the ordinary, we have also become the privileged and the pilgrim.
We are the ones who will not only tell the story, we are the ones who helped to make it.
Be infinitessimal under that sky, a creature
even the sailing hawk misses, a wraith
among the rocks where the mist parts slowly.
Recall the way mere mortals are overwhelmed
by circumstance, how great reputations
dissolve with infirmity and how you,
in particular, live a hairsbreadth from losing
everyone you hold dear.
Then, look back down the path as if seeing
your past and then south over the hazy blue
coast as if present to a wide future.
Remember the way you are all possibilities
you can see and how you live best
as an appreciator of horizons,
whether you reach them or not.
Admit that once you have got up
from your chair and opened the door,
once you have walked out into the clean air
toward that edge and taken the path up high
beyond the ordinary, you have become
the privileged and the pilgrim,
the one who will tell the story
and the one, coming back
from the mountain,
who helped to make it.
— David Whyte
from River Flow