There were a couple of years there where I just kind of floated, unmoored.

It’s not really that I was moored before…the tethers holding me in the place I was weren’t exactly comforting; they were confining. They felt wrong.

But, inertia is a hard thing to overcome. I got really good at justifying that where I was was where I was supposed to be…heck, I had always been there, and in my time there, I met a couple of really great people who made things seem pretty good; better than things probably were.

But, I never stopped unconsciously straining against the ropes; the currents of the universe (or more accurately, my perception of it) really didn’t want me there anymore. I don’t like the concept of “destiny” really; reality is too random for that, but I didn’t belong where I was.

There wasn’t any one big event or occurrence that finally set me adrift. It would be easier to describe things to people if there was. It was more a combination of a thousand little things: attitudes, pronouncements, difficulties in communication, vague feelings of discomfort. Whatever it was, one day the ropes holding me to the dock (to belabor the nautical metaphors) just weren’t there anymore, and I just sort of floated out of the harbor, into the vast, undefined whatever.

And I was fine, really. Mostly. I got pretty good with the uncertainty, and got *really* comfortable with the freedom to explore (or not). Something was missing, though, I guess. I didn’t really know what it was, because it wasn’t something I ever really lost or gave up when I finally made the gradual break with my personal status quo.

Oh, looking back, there were a couple of years where I had something pretty close, but that had a heck of a lot more to do with other things than it did with the “harbor”. That phase of my life passed, as phases of life do, and eventually, the feeling was lost. I never really found it again.

Until one morning a couple of years ago. How I found myself in that place, I’m not entirely sure (that’s not entirely true, but for the sake of the tone of this piece, I’m going with it, and anyway, it “feels” true). I didn’t engage, really, not right away (that’s just not the way an introvert does things), but I listened and observed (that *is* the way I do things), and I liked what I saw and heard.

The people here seemed to get me. These were people who thought about things in some of the same ways I did; it was weird, and scary, and exhilarating all at the same time. It was new. One person in particular stuck out. I can’t even remember what that person was talking about, not really; and it’s not important anyway. What is important is that it felt like the words being said were thoughts pulled right out of my brain. That intrigued me enough to stick around a while.

So I did, and before long, I was a part of it. Seems the thing I was missing was a community; not just any community, but a community where I wasn’t the odd one out by virtue of my being me. Sometimes, a few of us misfits eventually find each other and choose each other, and when we do, it’s often glorious.

Now, no community is perfect; there’s the usual weirdness that happens when you get people together in groups. Not everything clicked with me, but things were always new and interesting. However, I’m pretty sure I’ve made some friends that I’m sure will remain friends for the rest of my life, and that’s not something to take lightly.

And now, one of those friends is moving on to the next adventure in her life. It’s the nature of things – life is transition; few seekers stay in one place for long; it’s not our nature. The community, of course, will keep going, but that doesn’t mean I won’t miss this person’s presence in it.

Because one particular morning, she said some words that led me to all sorts of great things.

For that, I thank her, and wish her well.