I can still taste the paralysing dread I felt when I had when I realised, some weeks back, that there was no one else but me that would pull me up on the spiritual path. I felt terribly lonely. This is funny, cause I had no idea about what it meant.
I’m not alone. Wherever I go there’s people. People I like, their lovely smiles, their incredible stories. I can picture them, all sitting around a long banquet table, gesticulating frantically, laughing out loud, drinking, kissing with passion, yelling at each other… or just looking at me softly with their kind, fair eyes. Everyone, exactly true to their own natures.
In my home, those people with whom I’m sharing my abundance are also feeding me, shunning their bright lights, creating a roaring fire. Honouring His gift and, in the process, honouring me and themselves and the sacred place I can always return to.
The loneliness I’m talking is about leaving the island. Sailing, on a dark black sea, quiet or treacherous, with no one to guide your way but your own lantern. Bearing the light, protecting it, being responsible for it. If it blows out, there is only you and total darkness.
There are always will be an island, emanating with joy and fire, there’s always a place you can stop by, feast, dance, honour, gather stories and feed the fire.This is one of my goal! Seeing as much as I can, experiencing, meeting precious, colourful people. But staying in one place would be fooling yourself though, (except if it’s what you want..?) There is so much to see, so much to experience, but the hardships that moving on implies, you will face them alone in the end, may you be surrounded by the most awesome tribe of people, with your lover, your child, or alone on your boat. You have to make sure that you stay on course, above everything else.
Should I stand amid the breakers?
Or should I lie with death my bride?