Open Your Eyes

Rob and I have been in what we've been calling our Begin Again phase.

The other day we decided to go to the labyrinth.

Earlier that day Rob had given me a silver necklace with a circular pendant. Mountains shimmered across it in shades of blue and green, with a small moon hanging above them.

As I walked the labyrinth, I found myself holding the pendant like a rosary.

And thinking:

I wish we could live in Colorado.

I wish we could live in the mountains.

At some point I stopped.

And said out loud:

"Jess. Open your eyes."

Readers, I was standing in the Catalina Foothills.

Mountains were literally surrounding me.

The thing I was longing for was right in front of me.

How often do we imagine what we need exists somewhere else?

In another city.

Another season.

Another version of our lives.

Meanwhile, the mountains are already around us.

The people are already here.

The next piece is already making its way toward us.

Sometimes the invitation isn't to go somewhere new.

Sometimes the invitation is simply:

Open your eyes.