"Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"
It's a familiar refrain, and not just in the back seats of family vehicles. So, what if, instead of focusing on the destination, we might already be there? What if we have already arrived? That there might be no striving, no "coming toward," no "if only?"
What if we were each okay, just the way we are today? No dieting, no shopping, no "If I had that new outfit/ car/ technology," and had the right friends/ lover/ family?
It's a frame of mind: to have arrived.
It's not as if any of those things can actually change who we are. They are moments of delaying our real work. And our real work is to become pleased (or at least somewhat contented) with who we actually are.
We are the bright things, in all of our shininess. And it's our doubt that confuses that, so quickly. It's easy to hear the words—that we are perfect in all we are, and came into the world this way—yet we spend lifetimes trying to get to a place of that knowing. What makes it so strange and far-reaching? What makes this bright thing so tangled in confusion?
I'd like to sit in the knowing, in the distinct possibility that we have already arrived.