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Something ancient. Something clear.
I dive in.
Water has pooled beside emerald plants, and I can see through the ripples to the rocky bottom as I swirl my fingers to get a taste of the temperature on my skin.
It’s not muddy. Not murky.
I like that.
My eyes are sparked and alert, able to peer—to see into the deep.
I am not searching for anything per se.
I am letting the mystery drape and drip all over me.
But this is the best kind of searching, my friend.
It feels like a slow bloom, a single rose of trust and all the thorns of my skepticism, my anger, and my doubt.
I am not immune.
I put the rose behind my ear—a token of softness that I’ll need for this journey. And for every journey I take for the rest of my life. The rose is plush and velvet, a deep maroon red that is sultry and slightly proud of itself. I like the way it feels behind my ear.
Because I want to know truth—to hold it close, to breathe on it, taste it, and stare it in the beautiful, weird, scary face.
It takes guts to be truth-seekers.
To not be satisfied by the hollow explanations of those who came before, the stifling sound of advertisements and general bombardment of the world, of all that we “should” be and feel and say.
We want the freedom to think for ourselves.
To be who we really are.
To be vividly in the moment.
To hold amazing space for others.
I dive in.
I plummet carefully into secret caves and places unknown that are always there but I cannot see.
That we cannot see.
But we could…
We could listen to the beckon, the call, the hushed whisper, the melodic and deeply familiar songs of our ancestors—and be led by them.
And be changed by the fierce winds of sand and time and God and truth.
Side by side, we could walk with the invisible ones who always surround us, who know more than we’d ever dream.
Because we do it together.
Step by step, together, we climb down ancient, crumbly stairs with ivy growing in the cracks.
They look like ruins, but we know that sometimes, the best things come from ruins. From what was once broken—well, it can take on a fresh, vibrant life. It can grow flowers and brilliant dandelions the blazing, liquid gold color of the sun.
We know that so we breathe it in, all the possibilities that come along with experiencing sh*t and pain.
We climb slowly, taking it all with the breadth of our eyes and the astonished expression on our faces—
Until we reach the treasure, which is not as tangible as we’d expect…
But they are gifts in perception, a clarity of mind and heart, and the precious wisdom that comes as a result of knowing what it is to hurt, to love, to care, to be disappointed, to be angry, to know trauma and grief.
We are so human.
We are meant to feel. To seek. To know.
Feel the pulse of it!
We are meant to keep climbing to the heights and depths of our destiny, of Truth.
And what we need the most, we might have lost a long time ago—
The willingness to try, to stick our toes into these unfamiliar, sapphire waters, to abandon what we once thought was true.
To think deeper, feel deeper, question it all, and expand in the most subtly powerful ways.
We need imagination, too, oh yes—the permission to color with every damn crayon in the box and go outside the lines and hell, why not inside the lines too.
Oh, it can be so pleasurable.
To experiment and play, like we did as kids.
To be scientists of the mystery.
Humble guardians of Truth.
Parts of the soul wracked by beauty
The soul ruby drip of God
When we open
And are struck alive
By the thirst
Our own thirst, the utter damn and unstoppable hunger.
To see beyond the confines of physicality, the sweet flesh and bone of this life.
And what a great paradox; ’cause we have to be in our bodies, grounded enough to do that.
But our thirst is great, we want Truth so badly to benefit ourselves and others.
We are ever-thirsty seekers of the mystery with the flip of our cape, and that wild, determined twinkle in our eye—
Nothing can ever stop us.
Because we seek the transcendent. The infinite.
And whatever we experience in this life, no matter how horrible—will be in service of our search. Our growth.
Yes, let it all be a balm to our souls, a poultice for our hearts when they ache, for when we believe that we are broken.
We are still in service to something bigger.
We shall bring the truth up and out of those secret caverns, up the crumbly, moss-licked stairs with ivy growing in the cracks—
And into the world.
So it can kiss the fresh air and taste the light of day.
Truth is meant to be shared.
It is not just ours to keep like gold.
It is meant to be shared, to be delighted in by all.
With our ancestors by our sides—to show us the way, always—
As we exhale
We say thank you.