airplane healing pains.

An airplane signifies so many unknowns, so many variables, with a constant ‘me’. An anxious fear surges from the pit of my stomach, always questioning whether I’ll ever be strong enough to deal with the discomfort of newness.

My breaths are sharp here, in the transition, heading towards the side of practical realms. I’m scared of what is left to heal to embrace my ideals. What if I’m not able to withstand the healing pains and sheddings?

A few tears trickle by, summer stillness shedding, leaving me vulnerable and bare in the act itself. It’s endearing to witness and disconcerting to feel. Where will I be next summer? How would it be like to be a year older towards the person who has been gifted so many daylight dreams?

I’m back to the solitude of my essence. The realisation that most of my journeying is done in darkness, pain and cycles— upon completion, they radiate a revealing light that serves and heals. But not before the transmutation, not before the healing, not before the fervent contemplation. 

Not before receiving God’s wisdom and His infinite love.

That’s the epiphany. Midst those fears, the only constant is God. His infinite presence, mercy and providence. In the airplane, in between the clouds, in the climax of new beginnings, here is surrender to faith. The constant, peaceful light of faith.