27 February 2013

And in the desert [green]

~caution: mixed metaphors ahead~

When you stand on the shore of an endless ocean and step into the water, you don't expect to find the other side. You expect to be pulled in a current to experience a deeper darker ocean [green] than the lake which you once called home. And the [green] is golden and warm and cool and waves of delight and comfort wash over you, and you are glad you took that step out into the water, and you never want to drown on dry land again.

But after you see a glimpse of that divine [green], you wash up on the shores of an expansive wilderness. A place of beauty and light and wonder and secrets that all point back to the green you saw once. But it is challenging here in the wilderness. You have so many places to go, so many mysteries to follow, so many hidden treasures to find. And here, you feel you could spend the rest of your life, for here is where the complexities of color are discovered. Here, you see it is a deeper [green] containing more tones than you imagined, and you are full, satisfied, satieted.

Until you see the mountains on the horizon, and realize that there is a glorious, infinite climb awaiting you, and a cold to take your breath away, and a vista that, compared to the marvels you've seen already, will cause a burning, stinging desire in your heart for your true home.

But as you make your way to the foothills, you realize that you are tired - exhausted - from your journey. And while your soul and spirit long for the never-ending climb, your body will give out soon. It will go all the sooner if you stop now, so you simply continue climbing up to your true home - the cold awaits, calling you on and on, bringing refreshment and energy.

That's how I feel right now. It's a place combining all my hopes, dreams, fears, and expectations in a potent, heady mixture that I am incapable of describing. And through it all, exhaustion.

This week has been tough, friends. A series of revelations combined with a couple of major upsets have left me with one of those stitches in the side which makes motion acutely painful.

Spiritually, it's similar to when I had my wisdom teeth removed last summer. I am present in every moment, yet so distant I may as well be miles away. I am constantly awake to experience the wonders of the foothills, but constantly craving sleep and escape from awareness. I am tired, worn out, in pain, but so high that it doesn't matter. It's a giddy mixture of physical and spiritual exhaustion covered in a sense of overwhelming peace. And I know that when the happy pills run out, I'm done for.

Here's another metaphor for you. I've got so many I could be a dealer.

You're hiking through a pass when you come to a place where the mountain has been carved away and the trail you thought you'd take has been replaced by a sheer cliff face. Undeterred, you begin climbing across, but further up the mountain, several large stones have come loose and in their tumble down to earth, hit and knock you about as you cling to the rock. And in that sublime, infinite moment as your fingers leave the cracks and your feet lose their footholds, the adrenaline is pumping and suddenly your eyes are opened and things are in such perfect focus you see everything and nothing and you are thankful the rocks knocked you lose. But like the ending of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, it remains to be seen if you are falling or flying.

And in a way, it doesn't matter, because you are watched over by One who would shelter you with His feathers and wings. Falling or flying - it's irrelevant for you have transcended the need for ground.

gravity don't mean too much to me...

I'm tumbling through the air, friends, and the view is exhilarating. In a way, I feel destined for this. The icy, raw, burning cold tears at my throat and leaves me gasping for more. And the thing about [green] is that it




1 comment:

  1. Sarabeth,

    I love this post. I love it. I was in Google reader, and I read this, wondering who in the world wrote it. It felt so much like something I would write.. then I realized it was you. I just recently started a blog... and yes, it has a lot of metaphors to life. Keep up the great work. Good strength