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Coming Home

Photo by Lyn

I'm finding it hard to write at the moment. The previous two posts were written in moments of absolute connectedness and openness. You, my readers, recognized the words of love, and you let me know. Such beauty in your responses, and such a contradiction to find myself in a contracted state because of it. As if I need to keep up with what has already been said...

The truth is that we come down from those extreme heights eventually, and realize how high we really climbed, and how dangerous it was; how for a brief moment we let our hearts beat outside of our chests, exposed and unprotected. We succumb to the illusion, that it was a close call. We sense, with terror, the trodden footsteps of hungry wolves who've retreated, but who, all the same, were tracking us and ready to tear us apart.

Our feeling of vulnerability can't help but return because we are charting unfamiliar territory in opening ourselves up so wide. We've arrived at a place where there are no more rules, because we have come to see the landscape, and it is wild. We see, for what they are, all of the safety nets that have been devised to control and to stifle; to tame a power within us, so powerful, that we surely must fear it.

Yet, in our opening we find humble recognition of the source within, we find freedom, and the knowledge that the door to our cage was always open; but even so, we can only inch ourselves out the door and stumble into flight, often returning to the cage, just to make sure it is still there. We doubt. The who-do-we-think-we-are, the what-makes-me-so-special refrain sings its taunting song over and over until the beautiful music of the angels cannot be heard over the mechanical clanking of the mind.

We are not used to telling the truth. We are not used to putting ourselves at the center. We are used to revering suffering and sacrifice; the giving of ourselves until we have been depleted and have no more to give. We have become good at reading others and safely existing within the boundaries they've set up for us, even if our deepest part of ourselves recognizes a subtle injustice. We have set up our own fences, staying comfortably within their parameters, even though we yearn for a deeper connectedness. And we have tried to reconcile all of it. In the process we know we have deadened something of beauty. And here within lies the source of our collective pain. We have decided that it is safer to die a slow death in captivity, than to risk riding the wild river.

So, this is my way back. This is my recognition that I can no longer live asleep to my power, but in doing so that I wield no sword of destruction; rather a wish to unite, to heal and to bring you home with me. To this eternal moment, where we access the mighty power that cuts through illusion and is our divine right.

This power is quiet. This power is humble. This power is loving and nurturing. This power is a release, and a recognition that it belongs to all of us equally, that it transcends labels and semantics. It transcends categorization of any kind. This power turns our perception inside out, until the most horrible of atrocities have no meaning and no more pain, until those around us share our journey-- each one beautiful in its diversity. There is only the release of the hold that our fear and pain has upon us, which frees us up to experience the rich glow of the moment without the shadows of the mind. It brings us eye to eye, opens the vision of spirit and closes the critical eye of the physical realm. It needs no guru. It needs no exotic destination in a hidden hill. It needs no sacrifice. It holds no belief system. It sees beauty in both the darkness and light, and recognizes that the only thing that keeps us from loving our brother is our fear. The only thing it asks is that you let it take you where it will, and that you trust the divine order, that to us, often appears as chaos.

It begins with a call home, a recognition that the enormous love that you feel that would encompass all has been compromised by the dictates of a society that would place its love conditionally.

When you are ready, it gently dislodges your fingers from holding tight to the rock, the one on the side of the river bed that you were sure was your foundation, even if your entire life you felt the tug of the river calling you forth into a new understanding and a new openness.

And so you see, my reader, that this is my way back to this beautiful, delicious, moment of my Sunday morning; to let myself flow with the river, to recognize that I am free to fly and to bring you with me-- and to marvel with you at the bird's eye-view of unfathomable beauty. I humbly extend my pure love to you, no matter who you are. I am a mirror of you. You are a mirror of me. I embrace you where you are. I embrace me where I am. Namaste.


  1. damn, girl. So much depth here---i don't even know what to say.


  2. Hey Sis,

    I'm enjoying your writing. Great job! Keep it up!

  3. Yes, Brooke, "the door to our cage was allays open, but even so," we had needed to spend some time inside, without go outside...The time to understand that the door is up to us.

    Thank you for sharing your profound reflexions with us, your readers.


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