Skip to main content

Out of Prison

A road you've known all of your life--you know every pothole, every turn--you can walk down it with your eyes closed. But it has changed, little by little you've begun to deconstruct it, dismantle parts of it, mostly the familiar parts you've tread upon all your life. You throw them to the wayside, piece after piece until you notice that the heavy parts of your road are gone. The dirt is soft underfoot, and you feel joy! After all, you've unearthed a path to peace.

You plant a daisy in the earth, that you grumble should have never been covered by blacktop in the first place. You feel a deep parental love as you watch your daisy grow and bloom. You rest there blissed out with it until its beauty begins to fade, until it begins to die.

Suddenly, you awaken (again), and find yourself sitting on a decimated path. You look for order in it, but all you see is the fact that you've destroyed it! You tell yourself that no order is good, to accept the choas, but you can only think that you are still just on a stinkin' road, paved or not.

The daisy is dead.

Here is where it gets tricky--the moment when you ask yourself, NOW WHAT?! and you just don't know what to do.

You sit idle because everything you used to do down the road doesn't have any purpose. You certainly can't drive down it anymore, and walking, well, there doesn't seem to be much point to that either, because you finally realize that you don't have any place that you really need to be. But you know that sitting there is useless too. Every possibility is answered with a why bother?

So, you realize with a tinge of panic in your gut that you've broken down any structure that has ever meant anything to you, the scaffolding upon which you've built your life. And now you find yourself walking down a dirt path feeling like a clown, wondering why you would bother to participate in any charade--finding the people who make up the chorus silly in their overzealous participation--even the neo-bohemians, whom you sort of revered.

Here it is where the mind comes in subtly to torment you, but you don't recognize it immediately because it is taking you down the other side of the mountain. Now you are not prey to all of your conditioning, but rather to your self-inflicted madness of living in a world that still believes in itself.

For the first time you truly understand why we have arms and legs that move us, why we have a propensity to want to do. And now what you always thought was rather silly, like running just for the hell of it, doesn't seem so bad. You get that in the illusion, you must keep moving, because even if you are headed down the other side of the mountain, you can fall victim to the ego-mind--even if you were certain you'd shed it in order to reach the top of the mountain.

And to succumb at this point in the journey would be ever so sad, as this is the moment when your heart could truly open to spirit and to life, where the two could integrate to exist one within the other, and you could live with your head in the clouds and your feet planted on the ground--where you could finally experience a love that transforms yourself and the world at large, but have no need for it.

Yes, you must keep moving, because to be free of believing your thoughts is only the beginning of the journey, like getting out of prison. There you stand at a threshold with a whole life to live, and with no idea how. You only know that you'll do it differently.

Comments

  1. I think I must have a thing for writing about roads.

    ReplyDelete
  2. "you've unearthed a path to peace."

    What a beautiful thing to unearth!

    I'm so glad I'm traveling this wild road with you. I see endless amounts of loveliness ahead!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

♥ Thank you for taking the time connect with me here. ♥

Popular posts from this blog

Mountain

Okay, I am just here writing, because I can't quite tell you how important it is that I have full permission to write, right here today, with this energy that I am holding. To stand strong in the truth of my being, that has felt quite weak and wavering in moments, and equally strong and clear in moments, as if these parts are truly at war with one another, and I am watching to see which one will win out, but the funny division between the two is merely this, the more I let the two up for air, wrestling and churning up and me trying to find which team is going to win, which one is going to end up on top, there is just simply me, sitting on the sidelines, and really tired of watching the back and the forth, and so, I just sit and put my hand in the sand I am sitting on the beach, and feel the texture of the sand, feel it running through my hand, and there is just this amazingness of this sand moving through my hand, and it feels timeless and I begin to see shapes and outlines in the…

RIP Poltergeist

After over ten years of an incredibly intense journey as a seeker, I find myself lying fallow. Taking a rest. When I first discovered this uncomfortable fact — threat to the hamster wheel that was my spiritual rat race, I surrendered for dead, but something wouldn’t let that fact sit as truth. I was lying fallow, but this implied that after a good rest, fruit could follow. This had nothing to do with death.

I am humbled at the courage it takes to write. For many years I kept a blog read by only a handful of very supportive people, and you’d think that after sharing writing for so long with perfect strangers, writing would have gotten easier. Actually, it got harder. In fact, at one point I was so paralyzed, I just stopped writing altogether. It was just too vulnerable. There was no trust there anymore, and I attributed any courage I had had to my youthful ignorance.

However, life continues, as it inevitably does, and there is still this pang to write, and it grows stronger and strong…

Big Red Bow & Boat

The next installment in a boat series, I guess. I just loved drawing this one. It just sort of appeared one day, and I loved the hues. Thanks Sharpie, for mixing up some alluring colors for me.

It didn't start out as night, but thanks to a sharpie mishap... but I am coming to ADORE those mishaps, because my favorite part of this little drawing is that it is night!

I also love drawing these women from behind with big bows. I love the mystery of whether the boat is coming in or going out. Perhaps it is all those Victoria Holt novels I read as a girl. Thanks mom!

It is fun to just enjoy looking at art I've created, not because they are good, but because they evoke something for me in my experience--something that just feels simply a little bit more alive--tiny sparks of wonder that make me feel curious about this human existence, and our desire to create--something wordless. Sometimes I think it is the closest way that I get to brush up to my personal experience as a human. Beca…