The Time is Near

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant gorgeous, talented and fabulous. Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t fell insecure around you. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not in just some of us, it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” -- Marianne Williamson

There is one Universal question that has been asked in one way or another since the dawn of civilization: “Who am I?” Not “Who am I supposed to be?” but “Who am I really?”.

Sometimes I want to escape. Go back to the isolated woods of my childhood. Stand face to face once again with the rocks and the sea, winds blowing through my ears whispering the answers to the questions I have not even begun to ask. I have lost the connection to the power of the Earth and with it, the connection to myself. Was I ever connected or was it only an idea of connection.

Was my voice once carried along the wind to the ear of some distant soul standing on another rock, heart full and listening as I was for enlightenment on the wind? Or has it always been as it seems to be now where I am so used to not being heard or understood that I have begun to just talk. My voice ringing out in hopes that somehow it will bring about something worth it all.

From the time I can remember, I haven’t been truly a part of the larger whole. From the moment I began I knew I was to be different, and those around me knew it as well. The other children saw it, and exploited it. From the very beginning I knew I wouldn’t fit in and fitting in became the one fruit I craved the most.

As a small child I was raised by a village of people hoping to help my very young parents with the new obligation. I learned to speak at an early age and not in English, by time I started kindergarten, I spoke five languages that gave children five reasons to hate me. Later, I remember days on the jungle-gyms dreaming of far off planets and the quest for the seventh dimension. I would be alone in my quest because no one else could see it, but I knew it was there, and I would be able to find it. I had no knowledge of quantum mechanics or the physical realities of space and time, and didn’t want it. The world was mine, and was ready for discovery.

Later after watching a film that should have scared me, I was inspired. I poured myself into learning everything I could about the human brain. At age ten I was prepared to conquer its secrets and create a machine that could record the impressions of dreams and play them back for waking eyes. I was certain that in my dreams I could see and understand myself. My first dreams I can remember were nightmares full of monsters that I still fear today.

The tortures I faced during the day had made their way into the night, and if I could see them, I could defeat them and reclaim the safety of the night. The demons I faced in the day in the form of bullies and torturers were beyond my defeat but, those I faced at night existed only in my mind and could be fully in my control.

I don’t remember why or how but, I left the dream of recording dreams behind and faced the world again. From there I don’t remember much of my childhood, only flickering images on repeat, me alone, bullies closing the door to the isolation chamber and me left to face the reality in the dark.

There have been moments of happiness, of great self discovery, of light and yet they remain lost, reflected in the white capped wave tops in a sea of turbulent black waters of my past. When I used to read Tarot, my favorite card in my favorite deck was the Enchanted Tarot and within it the Six of Swords: ‘Passage’. The card depicts a couple sailing on a tattered sailboat through a swirling sea of blue behind them, the turbulent waters of their past; before them, the calmer seas of the future. Above the couple is the weather torn remains of a sail long ago destroyed by the winds of the storm, and above that, a double rainbow and the clearing skies.

The dream of the card speaks about how the couple has survived the turbulent storms of winds and ideas that overwhelmed them on their journey. They have survived the torrent and know that they have grown stronger and wiser from the hardships they faced. They will go on and thrive because of the storm that they have cleared, in spite of the damage they incurred along the way.

The card always resonated with my deep desire to make it to the calmer waters that no doubt lie before me. I was inspired to hold on and keep afloat for surely the calmer water is just ahead. Sometimes the seas would calm just enough for me to see the light, right ahead in the sun. I would reach in the hopes to be able to feel the warmth only to realize that the calm was still beyond my reach, just beyond my grasp. Then the winds would shift and the rain would begin to wash my skin and soon I would be back in the storm.

Now, nearing my 30th year, I realize that the boat is only subject to the storm and will never sail beyond its boundaries. If I am to reach the edge and break through, I must raise my own sail and take hold of the mast. If I am to reach the calmer seas ahead of me, I must take control of the vessel and sail on. The only problem is, I don’t know how, and the lack of knowing brings on the fear.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.”

Where do my fears lie? Is it the light that I fear or the dark? Could it really be the greatness within me that I fear? Perhaps it is safer in the storm. I know it; I can see the patterns; I know how to ride the swells; I can predict the weather. Perhaps here in the torment I am safe. I have not failed, I have not succeeded, I have only survived the storm: “It is our light not our darkness that frightens us.”

There are points in one’s life when the roads, traveled and imagined, converge and decisions must be made. We must choose what paths we will continue to walk and which we no longer want to pursue. I feel that now, in the transition to act II of my life, I am at one of those points. I don’t know which paths will continue and which have come to an end, or if I will finally be able to take control of my ship and sail to calmer waters (or at least a new storm), but I know that this is a time of transition for me and my life in two months won’t be the same as it is today.