The Staircase To My Soul

Certain times in my life have been prime topics for My Thots. New places, new adventures, new ideas, anything new is easy to write about, but to write of spiritual growth is more difficult.

How do I write about a breath that flows infinitesimally gentler than the one before it? How do I express, the sweet nuance heard in a slight inflection of a word spoken as I depart from a room? Where is the drama in the impending fear that I have forgotten to smile in this moment only to discover that it smiled at me?

The increments of my life are ineffable right now. My intentions to embrace each one a constant struggle to be present, a test of my ability to focus on the whisper of a sunbeam in a symphony of light.

It is the sweet surcease of pain found deep within the agony of being that comes only when life imitates spirit, calling for the death of all artifice, all ego, all the myriad ways I have lived for many many years. It means giving up the armor plated chains that have kept the prickly little hedgehogs at bay and allowing myself to be a quivering bit of vulnerability for the sake of growth.

The staircase to my soul winds around the stem of my brain like sacred fire flies on a pilgrimage. Letting go of the words and stepping upon the Way unarmed, unadorned, and unprotected by anything other than faith is still too frightening for me to sustain very long right now, but I can go back as many times as I need to and each time I am a little farther along.