Monday, 14 May 2012
Letting Go Letting In
I have planned many journeys. Bought the guide books, heard the stories. Analysed the ordnance survey maps. Gazed on photographs. I have believed the weather forecasts trying to hide from rain. I have imagined that only certain parts would challenge me. That others would be more beautiful. I have assumed that if not marked on the map it would not exist.
Dancing between desire and fear to be open to discovery and surprise. The biggest surprise time and time again is realising that though I have chosen to walk a path. I in fact cannot know what I will feel. What I will learn. What I will experience.
I can set out wanting to find bluebells only to find an abundance of yellow flowered gorse followed by not one or two but four blisters. Or in my fear of the urgency of a horse wanting to speak to me ~ I would be lost having to walk a main road instead of a wooded path. With blisters burning hot as I felt so alone as I realised I had walked miles in the wrong direction.
Finally I would arrive at my destination, a bus stop with the growing realisation that I had learnt about listening. Listening to my fear instead of running so that I could speak and hear the horse. That I could talk with my body so that the blisters did not burst and did not burn with too much pain.
Each of my journeys have had such surprises. A richness. Bitter and sweet medicine that has healed those parts which I need to let go of. Those parts which I have cherished. I have learnt that abundance can only exist if it has space. Where there is life there must be death. Beginnings and endings. It is all part of life. And so it is with sadness and joy that I reflect on my last journey. With the realisation that with every exploration and discovery I cast away the maps, the books, photographs and shed the old stories. And I learn again to walk bare foot on the earth.