At times I forgot
the pure connection with
my heart and the unshakeable
hope that remained always,
even in the darkest, most treacherous
parts of the journey.
It took only a moment —
a seemingly accidental whisper,
a quiet prayer of desperation crying out
to the light or a gentle note
from an old friend
triggering into clarity
the remembrance of all that is
most true and all of the beauty
and unconditional love
that couldn’t be broken
no matter what.
And so I continued to write —
not so much for the words anymore
but to feel the connection
with my soul
at a time when real connection
was precious and rare
and words seemed to fall short.
If I couldn’t be heard
then I would listen.
I would turn frustration into
dedication.
I would take the deep sadness,
and I would hold it —
forever if necessary.
And if this tender ache could be
deepened, I would find a way.
Maybe it would lead to a new outer
reflection,
something a little more sacred
and beautiful.
Most likely, but maybe not.
It was my best shot.
It was one more last try.
One more time
Perhaps the most painful lesson
on the journey
was allowing things to be
unresolved —
unsorted.
It was a little different than
giving in. It was definitely not
giving up., but I had to learn
to hold a place for all that was unsettled —
trusting in previous lessons learned
about truth and love and the fluidity
of all states —
knowing beyond all doubt that
there was tenderness in this place.
I learned that in order to retain the delicate
reconnection with my true Self,
there was to be a clean cut
with all that was of false light.
There were moments of extreme grief
and disbelief as one piece after another,
all that was holding my heart from
it’s true calling was torn back.
I did my best to gather up anything
that might help in retracing my steps
and somehow returning with some kind
of treasure to share —
which helped to create a sense
of meaning in the pain.
Eventually, even carefully gathered treasures
had to be set down — for a while,
adding to the already immense grief
I didn’t know if my heart could bear.
But it was at that point I began to
understand tenderness and
compassion and grace
more deeply.
And I knew I could never
turn back.
There were so many moments
of decision,
so many chances to take one more step
and to trust it was indeed safe to hold
out for truth
just one more last time.
I learned the art of turning inward,
healing deeply
all the parts of me that were
frightened and exhausted from years
of being disconnected from each other
and from God.
I learned there was a powerful
spirit of pure, real love —
not the imitation or false light
I had strived for.
No, not that.
This unexpected rising up of pure
Spirit was what had brought me
through trials and encouraged me
when I didn’t think I could endure.
And it was this very rising up
that, each time I glanced at the road
behind me, made the whole journey
worth living.
I learned, out of necessity,
the skill of holding an intention
while letting go at the same time.
It was this delicate balance
of holding and letting go
that gave me the stamina
to do what felt absolutely impossible —
to love my way straight through
all that was painful
and turn it into the most tender
experience.
It took a strong kind
of spirit,
brave souls who had prepared
to hold love and shine light
above all else —
daring to stand apart from the crowd
though their hearts ached —
honoring and assisting the difficult task
of evolution —
the delicate transformation
into tenderness.
It was difficult to hold
many things.
It was difficult to comprehend
that the world wasn’t
how it appeared on the surface.
I had known that at an early age
and had continued on.
It was disheartening to know
and be unable to be heard —
as so many times before.
Yet I remained thankful for strength
to hold it all anyway —
and to remain connected
to God and to my heart
this time
and to welcome new friends
and new experiences
as I learned to notice
and nurture the smallest
bit of hope and pure joy
again.
There came a time
when it didn’t matter
how many lies were spoken
or if they were repeated
by every single person around me.
My love of truth had grown so great
and my determination to
move in the direction of truth
and to never again be disconnected
from my own true Self had become
just what I do.
I had learned to respond to my own
inner reality and to create
from there.
Of course the darkness was
difficult to walk through.
And I admit I wasn’t always graceful.
But I reminded myself in the darkest
of times that without fail, every single time
I faced the path ahead and walked it
all the way,
all I remembered was the incredible light
and magic I had experienced.
It was disheartening to surrender
to the idea that love of truth
and the desire to see and protect
one’s own true spirit
and that within others had gotten a bit
scrambled.
Sometimes sacred things got mixed up
on the road to tenderness.
Sometimes darkness found its way in
where there was wounding,
And it took a while to let go of the idea
that moving further away from
true unity based on united sovereign souls
could ever lead anywhere good.
No, in the end, darkness and separation
had to be seen for what it was–
looked straight in the face
and released.
Parts of Self desperately hated,
disconnected,
and previously entwined with the dark
had to be embraced.
