We knew the energy was changing, as sure as we could see the leaves mark the turning of the season. Something was coming to an end, and something else was beginning. Over a year ago, we set off from our home with the question ‘Can we do this?’. Can we take this step into the unknown and what will happen there? It felt like we’d packed up some of the complexity of our lives along with the boxes now sitting in a storage unit. Ahead was simply an unknown path – travel, work, hold space, move on to the next. One foot in front of the other. Trust the path. It’s not time to think about the destination, just the process.
Now, we are full of answers to those questions we set out with. Yes – we CAN do this. We can more than do this, we find ourselves thriving and growing in the constant flow of meeting new people, encountering new spaces, the simplicity of ‘Are we travelling north or south?’ Yes – our business is more than fine because it feeds off of our energy and our energy is growing with every step on this journey. We’re learning to trust, accept, give and receive. We’re unexpectedly learning about ease and belonging.
Now it feels like the destination is on the horizon, along with the desire to arrive there. We’ve got good at this process. We can feel and read the signs. They all point towards a need for a base. A home. A small place to act as a harbour so that we can deepen our voyage. A root in the soil. The whole point of this trip was an unknowable destination, but now, with miles under our belt, with time spent in the flow, that destination feels known. Our journey has brought us to Scotland. It’s time for us to start the process of finding a home in these hills.
With a profound sense of timing we've smiled at so many times on this trip, the universe gave us a firm nudge (just in case we couldn't read the signs?). In the background of our minds, and in our conversations, had been the thought 'We should get a home in case one of us gets sick'. Within 24 hours of arriving in Pitlochry; the place where the map in our hearts has a pin and a note saying 'Can we live here please?'; we were driving to Perth A&E. A niggling health issue had chosen exactly this moment to make itself heard loud and clear. A short while later I looked out the window of the hospital waiting room. I looked over at the hills we've fallen in love with. The morning mist was lifting. Between them and me was the outskirts of Perth. I was holding the shock and fear of the morning but in turn I felt so held. The hospital staff had been amazing, the waiting room was virtually empty, Cyn quickly got the care she needed. Later we would find a similar ease with GPs, nurses, and getting booked in for tests. It was as if the universe wanted to say 'It's not just the hills that can hold you here'.
So as we sit with the vulnerability of navigating health concerns and all of the unanswerable questions that brings, we still find ourselves on our path. The journey isn’t ending. But our season is changing. We've arrived at the end of the beginning.
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