It’s one of those ambiguous days in the mountains. There seems to be a dance going on between the snow clouds overhead and the patient and overpowering rays of the sun, breaking through and lighting my space at magical intervals. I choose to bear it witness in my magic chair snuggled between two windows in the corner of my living room. On my right the flames of my fireplace long ago converted to gas team with the warmth of the winter sun and everywhere the sound of meditative music fills the air, courtesy of cable TV and channel 963, evolution at its finest. The team quickly infiltrates my thoughts and I begin my ascent, my seed thought springtime, clutched tightly within the fingers of my two hands.
Wisdom surrounds me; a penetrating mist acknowledges my private challenges; denial is futile, surrender is appropriate. I am transported to my own past dark night of the soul. I recognize and acknowledge differences. I have grown, I have allowed Spirit to enter my space and I have accepted its guidance. Gently, I disentangle my fears from my thoughts, releasing the need to revisit my current experience, to compare, to grieve. Completed, this part of my morning is over; I choose now to spend my day loving me, filling, filling me, my heart; in preparation (perhaps) for another day’s temporary withdrawal from Absolute Truth, because forgetfulness too is a gift from God.
Thy staff and Thy rod comfort me… and indeed they do; I walk through the valley of eternal life. The seeds in my hand begin to sprout life and the Essence that is me walks the garden paths of my own front yard. Here, I settle upon a spot within the halo of filtered sunlight and sprinkle upon soft dark earth, tomorrow’s promise. Here, within the space of my own chosen refuge, the Devas and Nature Spirits, the Seeds and my Soul, conspire for tomorrow’s life. Together, we embrace the Cosmos, paying homage to its joy; whereupon begin traces of distant song, sacred toning and barely penetrable notes, beckoning me rest, to dream the sleep of the awakened. I marvel that the Bible is not the guide for my childhood; its passages, no longer twisted and obscure, often poetry to enlightened thoughts. I lie in the grass and wait for the butterfly, while perched alongside within the yet folded leaf of a lily, a yellow caterpillar observes in silence.
--Sylvia Jusino, CTCLP and Joyful Earth Traveller