The Waystation sat open for business
Someone had spray painted “PEACE” above a door of peeling paint
Dusty railroad tracks crossed in front, no longer going anywhere
I had reached this place as a last resort
It wasn’t my original destination nor was it familiar
Gold and billowy white were more my speed
I thought I was bound for better things
With gentle, sublime music filling the empty space
Somewhere around Prescott I lost my way
I found myself following the coyote calls in the valley
The sigh of the wind among the pondersoa pine
And wound up in Chloride, AZ – sans my bags, my map, and even my shoes
But the view is grand
The sun warms my face
And the tracks remind me that all paths lead
… (thanks to Sunday Scribblings for the writing prompt, Guidance. It took me in a beautiful non-direction) (photo by BrandonStephenson)
My child died in a freak accident. He lays there unmoving and still.
No, my child is fine. He’s running around with the stick that adjusts our blinds and in his best He-Man voice, he is screaming, “I have the POWER!”
I lost my job. Then I found a job.
I felt bliss and in touch with the very fabric of Oneness. Then I felt my stomach clenching in intense loneliness and despair.
It doesn’t take a day for me to imagine the worst and best. It doesn’t even take a second to contemplate life alone on a cold street corner… or surrounded by family. A day has power. But my thoughts can sucker punch me like nobody’s business.
This next week, Thanksgiving week, will be a time for spiritual contemplation. I have the whole week off from work due to some vacation days and the holiday. Because my son is in preschool, two of those days will be mine (all mine!) to find out what I have been avoiding in myself and how to come to a deeper level of inner peace.
Can you feel the quickening? The cosmic urge toward self-reflection?
I have explored the shadow, the inner realm of doubt and loss. I have traversed into the Light, that sphere of loving free fall. And in the end, I STILL need to write. 🙂
So, I’m back. With lots of ideas and the desire to express them. I’m going with simple writing prompts for now… A see bigger projects in the future, yet for now, I need to flex those typing fingers and just let it out.
What happens when all concepts are stripped away? Or maybe a better question is… how do you survive the process of getting to such a place?
From the spiritual literature I’ve read, lack of concepts is highly desirable. It takes you to the “I don’t know” mind. Buddhists call it Emptiness, Tolle calls it Space Consciouness (I always liked that one…), and Byron Katie puts it like this: Who would you be without your story?
What’s left when you aren’t strategizing, manipulating, orchestrating, stressing, hoping, fearing?
For the second time in my life, I’m exploring this question. The first time I was at a retreat and we were asked to step out of our comfort zone… WAY out. It was one of those times when you are so committed, so passionate about knowing the truth that you’re willing to sacrifice your life. Kind of how I imagine those folks who jump out of airplanes feel… shared shitless but damned if they will play it safe one second more.
My experience taught me I could trust the process… that I could trust life. Out in the middle of Knoxville, Tennessee, eating a bologna sandwich and eyeing a plastic covered mattress in the middle of a stranger’s living room… I found courage. Courage to smile and accept a meal. Courage to walk to the apartment door and leave. Courage to navigate the transportation system back into the center of town, find a library, and gratefully collapse knowing I was safe again. Maybe even realizing I had been safe all along.
I can’t go much more into the details of that experiment because we were asked to keep the specifics private… I will say that at no point were we asked to put our lives in danger… however a hefty percentage of us did do some outrageous things in the name of testing reality to the limit. Oh the stories of that day!
Here I am again, what almost ten years later? This time I’m doing this trust thing, this testing reality thing, sans a group of committed others. It’s just me baby. Well, my partner is along for the ride by default, but the inner journey is intrinsically a solo one.
So what do I mean by “this trust thing”? I mean… getting to the place where concepts no longer save the day or distract or comfort anymore. I mean…getting in touch with the shadow … and seeing how far the rabbit hole goes.
What happens when you are out of luck, out of options, and out of hope? Where does life take you next?
It’s been a hard month of losing stories… They’ve been unravelling like bolts of silk, sliding through my fingers. I don’t know what’s in store, I don’t know where this will lead.
I am entering “I don’t know” mind. And it’s nothing like I thought.