I just returned from a long and full 9 day trek. What originally took me out the door and down the road segued into a journey, filled with the unexpected and unknown…
I am in a healing time, the kind that takes one down through the depths, past the roots of beginning, into the future transforming the nature of being. Healing is always available, yet I have found occasionally a vortex opens which allows for greater, more, fullest…and I find myself being propelled into another time and space in which I participate and watch at the same time. It contains this surreal and otherworldly feel and I know I must pay attention. The pressure is on and the crunch requires all of my awareness in the hear and now. Remarkable and fascinating, painful, purposeful, take no prisoners, show no mercy type of advance in which a great expression of love is revealed in the Truth of mirrors.
I note the movements, the light cast and the shadows created. I note the faces and the trickery in the reflections. For me these journeys are always where angels and demons walk side by side. Sometimes they are shape shifters, never revealing their true nature. It is left up to me to decide; friend or fiend.
So I walk and walk and walk some more. Sometimes in my restlessness, in my unknowing it is all I can do. I cannot sit or stand or bow. I dance it out, walk it out…I have to move, keep on moving, keep on journeying into the unknown.
And all this time spring is blooming. Lilacs perfume the neighborhoods, intoxicating, drawing me deeper down the path like Hansel and Gretel to the witch’s house of sugary delights. Where I must peer through the windows, spy out the mirrors; note the witch is another reflection of me and the children also; lost in the woods, in the story, in the miasma of story within story. The pressure, the knowing, the seeing reach a crescendo which drops me, drops me into the heart of the void. Collapsed…drawn out, laid flat; and release, for there is truly nothing I can do. Nothing to change, nothing more to see…and within the nothing I surrender…the stories, the journey, healing, awareness, the teacher, to all which is greater than I and the greatness of I within it all.
In the lost resides the found, in the mirror the truth, in the nothing everything. Inherent in all things is its opposite, and it is all the same. All exists within the same continuum. Within my greatest imperfection is my most profound perfection. Even shit when amended properly composts into the matter needed to augment the growth and fruition of transformation.
I am utterly thankful for this journey and to those along the way who, unbeknownst to them, agreed to participate…and to the one who was the catalyst of it all, I hold you dear; for in your raw and imprisoned truth you could be nothing less than who you are in both the hidden and revealed.
It is in the being, it is always in the being…part of the grand mystery is things are not always as they appear to be. In the compassion, in the heart, truth prevails. In the love, in the openness, in the vulnerability grace is revealed. In the fear, in the shadow, in the contraction we wrestle our demons. In the flash, through the fire we are purified, emerging with awareness and capacity honed through adversity; steel strong, two-edged sharp. Sometimes when I head out the door it is what the day brings, and sometimes I step onto the path of an epic journey, in which when I arrive back home again nothing is the same; forever and a day a new way has begun.