Gratitude vs Longing

Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet is a favorite of mine. I love how the call and response is someone (or many someones) requesting wisdom and the prophet replies with poetry that enlightens, enriches, and causes reflection. It’s no coincidence that I was introduced to this book by a very dear, very wise friend. Sometimes I go to her in the same call and response format. 

Yesterday evening I asked her to speak on longing (and how to crush that feeling like a bug). Of course she is wiser than me and gave me two perspectives to consider on one hand what it is I feel I’m lacking and to question that at all angles. What version of myself am I turning away from, avoiding, while looking for something else? And here, in this moment, as at every point, my life is full of exactly what is with nothing absent. This is obviously hard to grapple with when considering loss and grief and longing for loved ones who have left us, particularly around high holidays. 

She also offered the perspective of gratitude for longing—sitting with the feeling as a visitor with whom I welcome and chat with, learning all the ways of this temporary guest in the house of my soul, bidding farewell in due course.

This past holiday weekend, I’ve been able to spend time with my bonus parents enjoying meals and puzzles and pottery and yes even football. No strangers to loss and grief they were a balm to this tender heart.

I realize I can carry space where I both long for my  person and for a future where I might be held, touched, cherished, and loved again while also loving my life, my family of blood and choice, my friends, my critters, and what I bring to the world. Maybe instead of the wide ocean metaphor, it’s time to turn to the river metaphor—all of them flowing at once, consistent, and consistently changing.