Workshopping the Path

The green lawn of Bok Tower rolled down hill into orange groves and pastures, stretching out everywhere to the east until rain or fog hid the horizon. Sitting some 290+ feet above sea level–rare heights in the Florida peninsula–I received painful truth from a kindly spirit of the area. Yes, I am comfortable today and sometimes even happy, but this life was not built-to-last. This is a holding pattern I’ve been using for six years to figure things out, to find my footing and some financial stability, to grow up.

However “nice” things are right now, the time has come for a change because…

Because…

While I prosper, my soul withers.

That’s what the spirit told me, sitting next to me on the bench for which there was no space. Spirits can do that, occupy a sliver of reality long enough to whisper the truth in your mind. This one was kind but firm.

I was visiting a realm he built for himself in life–the land where his bones were lain to rest around a year later after it was completed. He had no reason or debt to approach me, but I was open to the encounter–always am when visiting new places–and it was his domain, after all.

Other, familiar spirits then came forth, weaving a tapestry I had possessed only in glimpsed patches, now fleshed out. Over all the Sun shone a gentle, warm light. His voice was last, his embrace constant. The breeze kissed my bare arm and cheek from the left whispering its own comfort and assurance.

Whatever path I chose, I’ll be alright.
But once chosen, it must be walked in perfect love and perfect trust.

 

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