How to know when you’ve arrived

Arrival, The Destination For Every Journey (Part 1 of let me count the ways)

Jun 16, 2024

Dear Reader,

I am at an interesting point in my writing journey. I am writing more than I’ve ever written- a weekly newsletter here, weekly serial chapters for the fantasy novel I’m writing, as well as working on a few essays and short stories that I’d like to submit to literary journals. I haven’t submitted anything yet, but I can feel myself gearing up to start. I’ve joined the local writing association and am part of a writer’s critique group. Writing and reading are finally front and center in my life, and to be at this juncture is something I have yearned for, and worked towards, for a long time though I also, already, have so many questions about next steps.

This is a new place for me because just a little over a year ago, I was battling resistance, perfectionism, and procrastination. I wanted to write- I told myself this repeatedly- but every step felt like crossing an abyss at the bottom of which monsters, both real and perceived, lurked, waiting to devour you. Actually, I have an even better image for what each step felt like. When I was very young, my family lived in Mumbai (Bombay), India. We lived in a first floor unit in an apartment complex made up of two, large multistory buildings. A 7-8 feet tall whitewashed wall ran around all but one side of the complex. The top of the wall was slightly rounded and had large shards of colored glass embedded into it. This wasn’t just a single line of glass pieces. The top of the wall was covered with them, and when the sunlight fell at just the right angle, the colors of the glass - blue, green, amber, and the much-rarer coral- made it seem like the wall was studded with precious gems. At least that’s how it felt to my 6-7 year old self. When I sat with my doll and my books in the enclosed balcony of our apartment, I felt I was living in a magical place surrounded by glittering jewels. It wasn’t until I was older that I learned the sharp glass pieces were there to discourage intruders. The image of the wall with its beautiful but deadly glass pieces has stayed with me through the years. Sometimes, my experience of life has felt as though I have a wall with these glass pieces on the inside of my body, my own sharp-edged internal terrors, a dangerous threshold that I have to repeatedly scale and cross over. And, there is also the world, presenting its own jagged glass-topped wall(s).

And, so, with writing finally taking up space in my life, I find myself thinking of arrivals. Of having arrived somewhere new. The etymology of the word ‘arrive’ points to “to reach shore after a voyage.” The goal of every journey is to get somewhere. We are aiming for some (better) destination, one that is more scenic, happier, more secure, or more successful, or all of the above. We are trying to get to some other place in the future even though we know, in Eckhart Tolle’s words, there is only ever the present moment. Maybe it’s an unconscious need to reach for a more whole sense of self. I will feel better when I… It appears arrival has also got something to do with feeling enough, and the idea of enough-ness.

Most of us live in cultures where (only) the visible mile-markers of success are celebrated. There is value in that. We don’t live in isolation. Having our art (work) recognized, valued, compensated, and celebrated is important and nourishing. There is magic in being seen and acknowledged. For a writer, being read and supported completes a vitalizing circle. But that’s only one part of it. It’s also the part we don’t have much control over, except in showing up and persisting. So, I think it’s important to figure out what arrival means for you. You have to ask the question even as you know that it may not look like anything you anticipate.

Dear Reader, I think, to arrive means you’ve taken the action to go forward on your journey. Having set forth, you will arrive somewhere. And, having engaged with the journey, you usually arrive changed.

“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.”
―Heraclitus

I titled this post as how to know when you’ve arrived because in my experience, the easiest way to tell you’ve arrived at the end of one journey (and are ready for another) is feeling a kind of yawning suction, like the pull of the ocean waters receding from the shore, creating an emptiness. What now, you ask. How do I do this other new thing? What’s next? How do I get there? It’s life itself pulling you, inviting you, with the infinite promise of a mirage, to go on yet another journey. The key is to take up the invitation while remembering there is only ever the present.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this!

Best,

Priya

Ten Thousand Journeys

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