That dew-jewelled rocky path...

OK- so it's been a million years. For reasons of self-challenge, I have restrained myself from response to the faceless void. Words may flow in so many colours and you cannot judge the brush for its every stroke.

This blog is my intimate space within such a cluttered web. In visiting this space, you are being welcomed into a space so personal to me. I speak in parody, in extreme, in honesty, I introduce the shadow which I, as we all, have. Denial of such can be held to blame for some of the world's greatest crimes ever. Understand the dark and light flows into it. Illuminate. Grow. Express. Question. Explore.

This weekend, I was reminded of a story of the true experience of absolute immersion with the spirit.

"A salt dog wanted to know the secret of the deep ocean. As he dived, he dissolved beyond return, becoming, at once one with the truth. With what he knew now, he could no longer be that form. He had merged, at one, with everything."

I have just returned from a meditation retreat in the Blue Mountains. Seeking a cosmic bandaid, I found new 'wounds' to heal, yet in processing such, I grew.

We may expect neatly-packaged solutions to our emotional briar-patches. Be it an alcohol-fuelled outing of denial, astrological-ponderings, hours staring into a patient friend's tea-cup ripping tissues, the purchase of psychiactric architectural psychochemicalelectroemotional re-wiring, or an instinctual calling to an old stamping-ground of spiritual guidance, compassion and hopefully, even elation?..

We think we know the exact prescription of our packages of salvation, but the path is never as we can already guess. That would be life as a constant re-run of "Roseanne".

The path can be rocky, sure. And no-one chooses that, but how can we also choose the elated surprise of rounding the next corner, just as the first rays of dawn come streaming, specrtal, through the dew-adorned rocks, before a heaving valley of effulgent mist. And, without the agony and darkness of the journey up that rocky incline, could that view feel so goldenly drunk into the soul as amber beams first emblazon ones night-chilled skin...?

Without that mindless passage into the jewel-laden future, there would be no surprise.


Nauthiz (Image by Bluniverse)