Stepping Through the Doorway

From the humblest hollows of my heart I bow down to you. I lie at your feet and weep as the waves of the Great Gratitude roll over us both. Tidal waves that would eclipse the sun and all would be entombed in shadow, curtained at the end. Scene.

The last 7 weeks I have stood at the cross roads of life and death (more or less metaphorically speaking) the pendulum could have swung either way. There have always been two choices and there will always be two that stand in that place of non existence.

To float and be carried downstream, to give up, enslaved to pleasure and pain. The ultimate temptation.

Or to swim upstream, enduring challenge after challenge, against the current. I can take longer strokes, I can kick with more conviction, I can expand my chest and breathe until I pant. The drive is within the pounding muscle of my love, the divine crux that glows without flickering even in the tempest of storms, which says “this is the way.”

In the last 7 weeks I have lain at the bottom of a dried up well, with cobwebs wrapped around my limbs and thoughts tangled and sticky. Hopeful for the promised rains of a dry summer’s drought. Whispering to the world above in softly spoken pleas, torturously wailing for freedom, hysterically laughing at the grand carnival of Life Spectacular.

I barely left the house for 6 of those 7 weeks. Afraid, feeble, weak, I sat in my decomposing sanity, wearing a blanket as a clothing item and my glassed over eyes as the suitable matching accessory. There was huge aching moments of uncertainty of my return, if I would continue, what path I would choose this time. It all felt too much, the pain too raw, the agony too wrenching. The humiliation burnt too savagely, the shame stung too precisely.

I was trapped in a state of in between, precariously perched in limbo. Time hung suspended by its own noose of illusion as my development came to a complete halt (and for the most part appeared to go backwards.) There was no foreseeable end to this mild state of madness, this indulgent bout of hermitude.

And then...

The call was heard booming and unmistakable:

“ALANA. GET THE FUCK UP NOW. Something big is coming and you MUST be prepared.”

And so I got the fuck up.

I stepped through the doorway and accepted my initiation.
I said yes.
The energy started to course through my veins more powerfully than it ever has done before.

I have risen. I am here.