The snake did not lie, although he did leave out the part about having to eat your own tail — to swallow your own wisdom and transmute it into gold. Ah, if only it could be so mellifluous.
Once you draw a line in the sand and begin to look back, look up, and look within — to see the pathways of your soul’s journey — the whole world changes. You are still in it, and you are still going to have to grow through it, but it becomes a different point of reference. When that realization takes your breath away in the grandest sense, it can also bottom you out, as if there is no floor.
Riding the waves of the conscious and unconscious can leave one breathless — not literally, but metaphorically — and the key is to keep swimming.
I have risen up and intentionally gone back down more times than I can remember on this journey, and I swear I have woken up in different places — different realities — which can be both true and not true, depending on the map you are looking through, where you started, and where you have been trying to get to.
Life is what we make it, and we are making it every day, whether we are aware of this miracle or not. Half in and half out of sleep, wake, want, need, drive, conscious choices, or lofty ideals adapted to make us feel something — if not safe or free, then maybe aligned.
How could we have known this at six, seven, even three or two?
Life is layers — steeped and sticky, a sweet density. If we break it down to ones and zeros, or yes and no, we can begin to see how we be. But first, we must stake a claim — to know better, be better, breathe deeper, or at all.
Internal Narcissa believes two things can be true and so not true, depending on what side of the glass you are peering through, and it is from both sides we can regal the nature of our being and the glory of its surrender to rise again new again each day.
In Love & Light,
Kellie J. Wright
*Regal = of, resembling, or fit for a monarch, especially in being magnificent or dignified.