A cloudy morning morphs into a hazy mind, and I sit still staring into the abyss around me. So many things fill that space, so many barriers between my heart and what I truly want from this life.
My thoughts often get cloudy when wondering about my purpose. Sometimes I feel like a wayward ship left helpless, only floating where the purpose of currents and winds shall take me. I once fought so hard against the flow that I had little energy to see where it had brought me. Distractions are, as they will always be, what the mind sees as saviors saving us from a certain truth.
Even when the storms come I can be left distracted by the waves buffeting me about. I rarely pay homage to the winds, or the crashing thunder, or the waves that bruise my ego. Those things are there to be honored, for they awaken in me the truth of who I am. I often press those wounds just to be reminded that they are there, for no greater gift do they offer than the reminder that it is I who bangs my head against the wall, and it is me who continually puts his heart to the fire, then writing the story that best suits the occasion.
That leads me to this now. The moment where the morning chill arrives, and the divide between us seems so insurmountable.
The lesson is, of course, that this is all my doing. I gaze at the prose on my wall and the symbols I use to remind me that when the winds blow hardest it is not time to hide, it is time to face the storm. The storm is, after all, rarely out there but rather is always in here.
In here. That spot that ceases to be a place, but rather becomes an action. Nouns do not exist in here, only verbs. In here is where vibrations exist in questions asked, and in answers offered. It is like a heaven where everything is action, the observation ceases as a thing, as does the observer, as does the messages that echo from its walls. So it is in here I go, to write a question on my heaven’s walls and to wait for a response.
“I’d like to know….”
Perhaps more a statement than a question, but in here grammar does not exist. Every question and statement has the power of intention behind it, and it is that power that is seen, felt, and understood. The words are irrelevant, only the formless sense of intent is recognized.
What comes is formless and wordless, but I will try to explain in the best way I can while being limited by my human imperfections.
I see a face, her beauty expressed by the waves of surrender that course through my soul. Rose petals flow around her, gracefully surrendering their sweet fragrance as they sacrifice their own existence to her moment. There is a golden thread that I cannot see, yet can feel, between us. I can feel her smile, and her scent, and trust the recognition.
“Yes, I know…”
I want to grab her face and kiss her. A rush of heat fills my serenity. Yet, there is nothing there to grab. There is nothing I need hold on to. There is only her, and me, swirling in a wind of essence. So beautiful is she that I lose all strength, and yet I have never been stronger.
She beckons me forward, and I follow.
There is a mountain whose purple majesty is capped in a beautiful white crown. While no path is made clear I am drawn to its peak, and I need to be there. I hear her voice beg me to follow, yet I cannot see her now. It’s almost as if she is the mountain itself.
I hear her laughing as I make my way up. When I stumble on the loosest rocks, she lifts me. I can feel her help me up, yet still cannot see her. I want to tell her that I should be the one helping her, but she silences me with a “shhhhhh” that sounds like a breeze rustling through the trees. I let go of my ego and stand, and continue upward on our way.
Finally, we are sitting on the summit, gazing at the valley below. There, the vision of small cottages with white smoke billowing from their chimneys meshes with the colorful mixture of snow and earthly life. There are souls keeping warm in their shelter, and I am keeping warm next to mine. Comfort has never been my way, but this is something different.
An overwhelming feeling of contentment and peace flow over me. There is nothing out there for me. All I have found in the moment is still in here, as much a part of me as I am of it.
“Yes, I know…”
No matter the distance, we are near. No matter the space, we are never empty. No matter the storm, we can always find peace.
I can feel her smile, for she is love recognized by my soul for who she is. I need not see it. It’s always there.
“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.” ~Rumi.
As surely as I am in stillness, I dance and swirl to the truth I know within me. I can see the walls I’ve built, my soulful desire to be challenged. I can hear the rivers of milk and honey just on the other side of one of the walls I’ve built, and can feel the laughter of my lover on the other side of another. I can hear her gasps of ecstasy, and feel my own, just over the traverse. Another Rumi quote comes to me as if written in a gold, neon sign.
“Our task is not to seek for love, but to break down the barriers we have built against it.”
The same can be said for peace. Or abundance. Or health. Or purpose.
Fuck….yes! The answer I’ve been searching for won’t come from out there. Rather, it is just on the other side of the wall I’ve built against it!
“Yes, I know…”
My eyes have opened, albeit not gently this time. I laugh at myself, and I wonder if she gets it, too. I wonder if our hands will start tearing away at the wall that divides us until, finally, our fingertips touch. Our names are written in the sky in one cloud, in one sky, by one wind. It is up to us to master it, and write the words we wish to see.
Yes, I know…