I’m going. People ask me how I feel. All the time.
I guess I feel excited, but more than that. Much more.
I feel defenceless, not in a bad way, but in the way that small children and old people are defenceless. Everything that comes at me I receive. There’s no question of not-taking-it-personally now. Everything is personal.
I feel like Jesus must have felt those last few days of his life on earth: acknowledging that I’m a few days away from the inevitable, even though the inevitable is something I can’t understand, and can’t imagine. And I can’t understand and can’t imagine how people do this all the time, without thinking about it.
I feel calm, with the silent acceptance that the dying seem to display. There’s no fight any more, and the bargaining has long passed. There’s no fear, not really, just a warmth surrounding me, like I am walking ever so slowly towards a light.
I only have one prayer today, and it goes something like this:
Hold my hand please. Be with me. Don’t ever let me go.
And Thank you.
How about you? How are you travelling today?