Today I am weary and overwhelmed. It doesn't matter that I’ve been told that I wanted to be here, that I signed up for this. On days like these my desires are much simpler than that. On days like these I want the churning waters of my negative thoughts to be calm, to be still. I want the urgent sound of tick tocking in my ears to fade, and freeze. I want to lose myself in silent dreaming without twitching, waiting for drama. I want things to be simple, quiet, uneventful; yet it feels like the constant battle between Ego and Spirit keeps me watching, restless, searching for a way out. My Spirit tries to keep me open, moving towards greatness. And my Ego tells me that my lofty dreams and aspirations are too much for other people. My Spirit spills over joyful words and promises good things to come. And my Ego pulls me back, warns me not to speak freely of the wonders of the new world, of the intuitive guidance blossoming within, of the transformation of awareness. My Spirit seeks out those who are searching for a new way, the way of Light. And my Ego shushes me, shows me how I am talking to distracted ears looking out for a different tune. My Spirit shows me visions of energies that lift me up to the heavens, and the Ego explains that my gifts will flit by people’s hasty gaze like fireflies in the daytime. Sometimes the air seems to shimmer, like I could reach out and peel it back to reveal another world within. Like a doorway opening up to reveal shining giants with golden wings, and phoenixes trailing flames. But the Ego explains that that world is not safe. Don't look for things that you cannot explain. Stay here with me, in the mind, where logic and reason are your saviours.
Once, I had a dream that I crossed between two worlds. I stepped across a wooden bridge and two yellow canaries appeared, waiting for me there. They led me to a place full of peace and love, like sunshine given wings and voices. At last I had found stillness. It felt like coming home and I thought I would never leave. But then the call came. And I answered. Packed up my things and left paradise to return from whence I came. Seeking out others with the same yearning for magical things. I found a few, those who were willing to believe that things could be better, that such a magical land existed. Those who were willing to trust. And off we went, trekking back through meadows and mountains, pilgrims looking for paradise. The way was hard and it felt like it took too long. Many turned back or succumbed to where their legs and spirits gave way. But something in me pressed on, until finally we reached the bridge, the threshold between two worlds.
And now it feels like I am still standing there, wondering what to do. I've made it back, but I too have doubts that this new land is real. Looking down at my bloodied toes and feeling the wetness of tears rolling down my sandy cheeks, I don’t know if I have the strength to keep believing. When you’ve been away from love for so long, it's easier to believe in the shadows inside you that whisper that you imagined it all. I’ve gotten used to the ache in my feet, the stoop of my back, and the cynics that say I’m peddling fantasies. Now their opinions have become real and this loving world a mirage. The cuts and bruises don’t lie, for the way has been hard, but somewhere deep within a voice strains to be heard - 'Put all that aside and rejoice that you're here. This is real. Lay down the wanting and the striving. There are no more jagged wounds to dress or angry daemons to fight. Let Spirit take you by the hand as you peel back the air and step into the dream beneath. It's time to go home'.