The Courage to Arrive~

“I have arrived. I am home. In the here, in the now.”— Thich Nhat Hanh

As I sit down to write this week’s reflection, these words from Thich Nhat Hanh speak directly to the courage it takes to arrive. I chose this quote several weeks ago, but only now am I truly sitting with it.
Waiting for my coffee to steep, I find myself staring at a small sketched card on my refrigerator. I bought it in Santiago de Compostela, at the end of the Camino. The image stopped me when I first saw it in a shop, a woman with short hair and a ballcap, seated beneath an arch I had just walked through myself. It felt like a picture of me.
This morning I was transported back to that moment. 

A Quiet Arrival ~
Untucked was released into the world one week ago. A week full of beautiful moments. And with that fullness came an equally real sense of vulnerability.
I’d like to think I’ve been preparing for this for a long time, which is true in some ways. And still, I noticed the familiar hum of insecurity in the background, the subtle habit of pre-judging what people might think, how it might land, what could be said or left unsaid.
What I was reminded of is this: I am following the courage God has given me, not just to write this book, but to live fully. No matter what.
As I reflect on the week, especially on the Soul Sisters event where I spoke yesterday, I’m realizing that the courage to arrive and be seen isn't about validation. It is about presence without reaching for anything.
This is the message I am speaking to myself today and offering to you.
Most of us know how to prepare and perform. But fewer of us know how to arrive and remain present. This is where the real practice begins. And if deeply seated patterns live in us this practice can feel slow and even unsettling.
Tying this back to my Camino experience, I’m reminded that arriving was part of the journey every single day. The walking was only part of the process. I was present in each step, in the clarity the physical movement brought, but there was also the daily arrival.
Some days, the endpoint offered a moment to release, to unpack both physically and mentally. I would arrive exhausted, and the only thing that sounded good was a bottle of Coke. I’m not a pop drinker, but there it was, cold, sweet and oddly nostalgic. The glass bottle and the first sip. It wasn’t really about the drink at all. It was the moment it created. The realization: another day done. I was here. Taking it all in.

I am here.
Here, I am.
Now I find myself asking, Where will I arrive today?
Not as a measure of accomplishment, but as an invitation to presence.
How will I show up?
And do I have the courage to show up without proving or performing?
I am choosing to arrive where I am.
Not waiting for certainty or approval.
Not postponing presence.
Just this moment, as it is.
I have arrived.
I am home.
 

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