Monday, April 13, 2015

Lost At Sea, Part I: Overture

I was on an island shore. There he stood, miles away, on the stormy seas, just outside a ship.

"I refuse to walk out to him," I said to the sky.

"Do it anyway," said a voice.

I walked over the grey waves pummeling rocks and spraying water into my face and I stood a short distance from him. We screamed over the roar of the waves.

"Come over to me!" he said.

"I can't. I won't!" I was scared to be lured into his siren song yet again, only to be irreparably harmed.

"Come over."

I walked over. My last act of obedience. I decided to say my piece. The waves near us grew quiet. I grabbed his hands in mine and looked in his eyes.

"I can't do this anymore." I began to sink beneath the water. "I don't believe in this anymore," and my body submerged under the water as I let go of his hands.

Was I drowning? Swimming? Down in the distance I saw a warm light. Instead of breaking the surface I decided to dive further in to examine it.

There was a woman who made the grey water around her turn blue, who was cloaked in cerulean and verdant greens, who was warmth and light. She had long auburn hair filled with beads and shells, and an open warm face with a welcoming smile.

I went down to her and entered her home, a dry cavern escape from the waters.

"I've lost so much," I said, as I entered the doorway and felt the warmth of candelight envelope me.


"I had to keep asking questions. I had to keep digging. I had to listen to my intuitions and my mind and my heart when it warned me there was danger, because years of not listening to myself had led to my worst wounds. I've lost so much."

I spoke and I spoke and I spoke and I don't remember all that I said. And I couldn't tell you all that she said. But it felt like home, and what it feels like to be a beloved daughter.

It felt like being able to call someone mother after years of never being able to do so. (If you have not known this pain, it is difficult to fathom the joy).

"God is Mother," she said, and for the first time in my life I was embraced by my Mother.

She looked deep into my eyes and smiled and I felt her pride in me. Someone proud of me not for having the right answers but for being my curious, deep, questioning self.

"Go," she whispered in my ear. "You're ready."

And I floated to the surface, where there was more of her same warm light, where the storm was over, where I knew I belonged as myself.

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