I don’t know why it is the peace within me sometimes slips away. I haven’t yet discovered why the calm blanket of tranquility that covered me upon sleeping, left me upon waking. But I feel the coldness of its absence at times. I can only believe there is something for me to learn, that can only be studied, within the barren desert of my being. Something that otherwise wouldn’t be seen while all the warm comforts of my knowing are present.
This is usually when my silent tears flow the hardest; perhaps to nourish and drench the barren landscape I’ve found myself walking. Whereas I used to see these moments as failings; signs that my faith was merely a thin, gossamer cloth veiling a doubtful, unsteady soul. I no longer see it that way. During these walks along the desert of me, I realize it is due to the very depth of my faith that I am allowed access to these spaces. I no longer skim the surface of my life. I’ve done the work necessary to tunnel deep.
I wish only that these moments felt better. They do not. I have another blockage within me that must be removed. And I am grateful that my higher self has brought me here, to do the work necessary. Spiritual inquiry isn’t a study for the weak. Nothing about me is weak. In fact it is often this impervious mind of mine that so often gets me into trouble when dealing with the very tender inner workings of my soul.
At times I wonder if I will ever share my life with another, due to them needing to know innately how to handle such a soul as mine. A soul that will never be pushed over, but at times wakes with tears due to the pain seen in another’s eyes. One who laughs but can also gently cry as she writes. This walk of mine might best be done alone, only because I fear it might be too much to ask of another, to love a soul like mine. One that stands in the rain, as well as the sunshine of life. A soul that can boldly come before the world with inner strength, but also contemplates deeply those things no one wants to ponder. Fate has spoken to me and I heard its words. My words are like that of the Sandman whispering into your sleeping soul, and I am grateful to have been given this voice. I will spend my final day speaking. But oh how sweet the thought of allowing into my inner being that one divine partner; the one who doesn’t judge the tears, or the strength, but instead offers a soft hand to wipe them away, and equal strength to stand beside me. Thoughts for a different day, but ones that joined me upon waking.
It is easy to assume that the peace within me is easily come by. I can assure you, it is not. Peace eludes me often. As if it were a fickle butterfly I use to wait for its return. Now I know it is for me to find. Due to such I take this contemplative, tender soul of mine to the desert in search of it. Peace is always there. But like the butterfly, it won’t sit calmly next to something that is wavering. It never shares its space with a contradictory belief. I can’t doubt and experience peace. I can’t dwell upon uncertainty and rest in peace. Upon asking that my life be used for service, as a novelist, as a children’s book writer, as a speaker and healer, the Universe kindly accepted me but has also put me through immense training. One can not teach what they do not know. One can not give what they do not have. And one can not be what they are not.
So as I sit here, I would be remiss if I did not disclose that I feel very much like this March day that sits before me; it offers a sun that could easily fool me into believing its summer, but if I stand in the shadow I’m once again hit by the coldness that is winter. During these times two realities coincide. We are held in a moment of flux; much like my soul today. But these are transitional times. They are necessary for the next shift. Flux always proceeds change. Even the smoothest transitions require an overlap of realities. So it should never cause us sadness when caught in the gap between what has been and what will be – as it means forward movement is upon us.