I woke to the dream of fear- a flooded road- 9D, right before the tunnel under Break Neck Ridge. I dreamed of busses overturned in the river- and of my own helplessness as we navigated the storm. I dreamed of the people we could not save, as we tried to save ourselves. I dreamed of fear, that we too might fall into the river- and then the skidding of the car as the river threatened to engulf our lives. And finally, I dreamed of clinging, of holding on- and of surrendering to love.
Today as the wind struck windows outside the office- white washed tornado gusts swirling through bamboo groves- I thought how suddenly the landscape can change. Last Friday was warm, with retreatants and staff members strolling through gardens and grounds, and Sufis whirling in the meditation hall. That day radiated an Edenic glow. Inspired by spinning dervishes and blue skies, I longed to take my shoes off and twirl around barefoot in the grass- and so I did, if only for a moment, like some Maria Von Trapp in the hills of Austria, before returning to the dark cloisters of an upstairs office.
If Friday moved me to dance, then Sunday may have been a lure into repose- in and out of dreams with the rain's steady patting against the window pane. This too- the pattering, the torrents, and finally the storm- signal an awakening of the soul. And what is woken- but in the midst of all this fear, a deep deep opening to love.
I realized this morning that I have been holding fear larger than life, like some faceless monster. I see the changes I might be moving into, and a part of me panics: Am I up to this? Can I do this? In this sea of change, what holds me and keeps me from falling into the river? Or perhaps I am yearning to fall- as in the words of Mary Oliver- Are you breathing just a little and calling it a life?... Fall In! Fall In!
And will I fall in, or just dip my toes into the water of life? It seems that even to dip my toes, I am pulled by a current stronger than myself. But there it is- and it is getting harder and harder to resist this current...this call.
But even as I fear, I am reassured that I am loved. This I know in my bones, have felt beyond a doubt. You are the result of the love of thousands... writes Native American author, Linda Hogan. And in spite of fear of that unknown, I know my soul is held and there is love.
Today as the wind struck windows outside the office- white washed tornado gusts swirling through bamboo groves- I thought how suddenly the landscape can change. Last Friday was warm, with retreatants and staff members strolling through gardens and grounds, and Sufis whirling in the meditation hall. That day radiated an Edenic glow. Inspired by spinning dervishes and blue skies, I longed to take my shoes off and twirl around barefoot in the grass- and so I did, if only for a moment, like some Maria Von Trapp in the hills of Austria, before returning to the dark cloisters of an upstairs office.
If Friday moved me to dance, then Sunday may have been a lure into repose- in and out of dreams with the rain's steady patting against the window pane. This too- the pattering, the torrents, and finally the storm- signal an awakening of the soul. And what is woken- but in the midst of all this fear, a deep deep opening to love.
I realized this morning that I have been holding fear larger than life, like some faceless monster. I see the changes I might be moving into, and a part of me panics: Am I up to this? Can I do this? In this sea of change, what holds me and keeps me from falling into the river? Or perhaps I am yearning to fall- as in the words of Mary Oliver- Are you breathing just a little and calling it a life?... Fall In! Fall In!
And will I fall in, or just dip my toes into the water of life? It seems that even to dip my toes, I am pulled by a current stronger than myself. But there it is- and it is getting harder and harder to resist this current...this call.
But even as I fear, I am reassured that I am loved. This I know in my bones, have felt beyond a doubt. You are the result of the love of thousands... writes Native American author, Linda Hogan. And in spite of fear of that unknown, I know my soul is held and there is love.
No comments:
Post a Comment