I’ve jumped off a private charter boat and into the bright green, Mediterranean Sea, surrounded by half-sunken tombs and tiny dots of flower-covered islands where goats wandered in and out of ancient ruins, swimming into caves to see how far we could go and what life forms lived alongside us when we did.
I’ve stood atop the Eiffel Tower having walked up every stair to look out upon Paris, stretching farther than the eye could see, thinking of history’s impossible reach.
I’ve driven alone through the Yukon wilderness into a murder zone only discovered moments before the reception went out for the next three days and moments more before a rainstorm thicker than the fingers of god pinned me to a road I could no longer see, pushing forth anyway into the hot springs that dropped into sulphur wetlands full of species nowhere else on earth.
Alone, too, I swam in those hot springs and heard whispers from the sun of the purpose in being human.
I’ve stood atop the tallest building with a crystal-clear floor, looking down hundreds of feet to the streets of Shanghai, the Yangtze river, and polluted smog-air farther than the eye could see, thinking of pink dolphins without breath.
I’ve snorkeled through the Silver Bank, coral-rise from the ocean floor of the Atlantic where humpback mothers had just given birth to their babies, listening to songs no human will ever understand while playing Simon Says with the largest mammal to ever read my mind and tell me of the depths of living soul.
I’ve wandered to the top of Cotopaxi to look down into the volcanic crater lake far below, greeted by a woman’s face filling the entirety of deep-blue water, telling me of her gladness that I had come, only to learn later that some lucky visitors get to meet the mother, when they visit the age old lake.
“Which mother?” I asked the gnarled stranger who had picked us up on the road back down the mountain, knowing that Quinoa was called “mother” here. “The greatest of all mothers,” he winked, “Mother Earth”.
I’ve stumbled into unknown shamans, locking eyes to find why our souls knew one another, discovering a ceremony neither of us meant to be a part of, shaking loose ancient dark and teaching timeless truths whispered from beyond saying, “you don’t get to choose”.
I’ve snapped into awareness of how lost I had become in a foreign country whose language I did not speak, unsure of how to get home again as dark began to descend on a city too big and old for mortals to comprehend, only to find I’d dreamt this all before and knew the way, if I could be quiet enough to hear the directions in my heart.
I’ve sat and talked with trickster Raven, watching the light playing games on a chasm a mile deep into the earth below.
I’ve seen the Milky Way become so crystalline, swirling clear that greens and purples came out to dance upon its splash across a black sky while intelligences most misunderstand blinked and jumped about as though movement were thought.
I’ve been treated like a celebrity because of the color of my skin.
I’ve been treated like an enemy because of the color of my skin.
I’ve heard bombs explode around me while a surveillance blimp monitored every word I spoke, typed, or whispered in the middle of a religious war thousands of years old, in a desert even more ancient.
I’ve looked upon monolithic, inscribed creations marking out the path of stars and ages, twelve thousand years old and carved by archaic hands, while modern ones threw bombs from jets tens of miles away.
Everywhere I’ve stood, looked, listened, discerned, and swam, I’ve found only the illusion of difference and strangeness.
Everywhere I’ve watched, touched, walked, dreamed and communicated, I’ve found a steady source that never stopped whispering to my heart.
You cannot leave home. It lives within you.
You cannot stop listening to god. He speaks directly into your soul.
You cannot become lost. You’ve already dreamed the way back.
You cannot fail to discover the truth. It lives in every place, every space, every animal or shaman whose eyes you meet, every peak, every valley, every cave, every moment, of every day, everywhere, forever and always, in all ways.
You can do nothing but follow the music of your heart and let it unfold the memory of the future.
Trust. Follow. Be present enough to hear. Be here. Make eye contact. Play. Listen. Love. And know you are always home, wherever you go.
Comments are closed