Precipice of “Self”

precipice

Im at the precipice of myself again.

Another jagged cliff and I am blindfolded.

Ive been told by someone whom has never lied to me, that there is beautiful turquoise pool just below, and that the only way, the absolute only way –  is to jump.

Trouble is, I’ve been crawling. For months now, maybe years, I’ve been crawling with bloodied knees and raw palms. I’ve been grasping at sand that slips between my fingers, my lungs- dry and burning.

Too, this same journey has led me to valleys of a thousand shades of green, to waterfalls that I’ve laid beneath to soothe my wounds and even once or twice- a garden of clouds that I’ve curled up in and almost forgot where I was and why I was here.

But none of that matters when you are at the cliff’s edge, when you feel every pore of your body gaping for oxygen because at this altitude – you either live or die.

“Never underestimate the desire to bolt” – are words I’ve recently heard.  Words I need tattooed on my hand, I need tattooed on the part of me that clinches and retracts my heart like a vault- metal doors crashing together into sudden layers of impenetrable metal.

“You wont get in, and I wont come out!” I hiss, eyes wide and teeth tight. I know this place all to well. I know the dark and cold and I know how to keep just warm enough to survive here. I know how to window shop pretty thoughts of my future and how to candlelight all things that I “will become” – skinny, successful, happy, me in a future house, in a future smile, in a future life.

I hide here until its safe, or until Im pried open. Secretly and desperately I want to be pried open, I want my handsome prince to come and jaws-of-life me out of here because I’ve swallowed my own key.

Sometimes, the right alchemy of compassion and strength can wedge its way into the cracks, sometimes this is enough for me to trust that I can open one inch, maybe two, sometimes, on rare occasion this is enough for me to open completely.

In this space, sunlight hits my face as if for the first time and my insides illuminate. Every sense is activated, sounds, colors, life as I know it in the deepest part of me, is pulsing. This feeling is what it is jump blindly. This feeling is trust, this feeling is surrender in its most beautiful form.

And jumping is what we do when we stop resisting ourselves. The exhilaration is not the moment of feet hitting the water below, but is in the air – the transition from ground to not ground, from known to unknown, the sudden lightness we feel when just let go of every reason not to.

3 thoughts on “Precipice of “Self”

    • … and on “Precipice of “Self”” .. perhaps life is just each of us over the cliff and through choice and decision and dedication we fly into life knowing that through it all, to land is not what we are here for.

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