Yesterday I took a ferry ride. Such a small passenger in a massive vessel, cradled in a mammoth waterway.

I wanted to believe that we are one. Like Russian dolls, I felt safely enveloped in a series of exponentially larger wombs. Together we three danced beneath a humble sun in a brisk wind.

With no destination yet in sight, I began to ponder all the possibilities inherent in this journey. Easily we could stay our course, or, conversely, we could drop anchor and stay put. Alternatively we could passively and lazily lie adrift. How paradoxical; to me, drifting seems a more mysterious and adventurous option; definitely the one I would choose.

So how exactly can hope anchor our heart if we forego the anchoring?

Actually, I think it's not only possible, but for me, the only option for my curious soul to take. If we are tethered to the ocean floor, we will always know where we are and where we stand. No controversies to maneuver around. Just stay where we are anchored, and all will remain status quo.

While drifting could entail demise, the whole scenario yields endless possibilities! Does our soul always know where it wants or needs to be? Or maybe, does our soul mull over all possibilities, and only fully know when it is finally "home;" the place it was made to stay forever more? Perhaps drifting serves to sandpaper the soul, then, eventually delivers it like the tide willingly deposits shells on the beach, leaving us whole, healed and happy. I choose to embrace the latter one. While it forces us to "go with the flow," both the destination and arrival time are yet unknown. And so, we coast, keeping our fears in check by anchoring our hope in the knowledge that hope floats. Our boat can sink, but we needn't drown. Our plans may fall mid-air, but we can still stand as the pieces rain down all around us.

When and how do we find a way to trust in any kind of happy ending when life took us to a birthday party where we were only given deflated balloons and empty party bags?

That's an easy one! We hold onto the fact that we ARE! We SURVIVED! Our abusers devoured us like lions, scarred us like irons, and yet we are still here! We learned. We learned that what didn't kill us DID make us stronger! We somehow backed our way out of the lion's mouth, and cautiously learned scar tissue protects our fragile new skin forming beneath, while we heal.

More than anything else, we learned we are not alone! When we allow ourselves more than one option, we breathe in life and exhale exhaust and exhaustion. We learned we are resilient. We've fallen, but we can crawl, stumble, scramble, stand, and soon rise...more brilliantly than the early morning sun. And we eventually learned that there is just as much beauty in darkness, because it is only then that we see just how well our sweet souls, bound within bodies governed by gravity, drift through life beneath the shining stars, all within the magnificence of a universe that never stops to notice its own beauty.

Just like us...