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I Climbed A Mountain -but this is not my metaphor

6/13/2016

1 Comment

 
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My husband and I climbed the ridge on Saturday. It is an hour and a half climb to a ridge that runs along the length of the mountains that my town nestles against. It is a beautiful climb. We start through a path ripe with bushes of full and sweet smelling yellow flowers. I am covered in yellow once we make it through. And then we are into the climb. A gradual uphill for most of the hike, with a steep grade at the end before we end up...up. On top of the clouds. 

During the journey up the mountain I reflect on the other journey I am on. A deep and soulful and acutely painful transition into self. And I am in it. 

So the mountain hike - the journey up , the goal of the climb and the reach for the top - I think this will embody my own journey.

But it does not.

Because unlike this climbing to reach a clear peak, my awakening is not linear. It is round. And full. It ebbs and flows. There are moments I am in it and times where the feelings withdraw back into a safe keeping place, waiting to reappear to me again when I am ready.

It is this not ready time that interests me now. Because in these moments of ebbing my stories come in hard and try and entice me away from my core. At first, I let them enter me. Because they are familiar. But not now. Now I see that they no longer nourish me. Now I see my stories outside of myself. Now I see them through the eyes of perspective because I see them from my heart. I see them from my truth. 

But still they come. 

And so there is a constant rhythm. My stories show up. I try them on - it is a habit. But only for a moment before I recognize that they do not fit. But I do not just pull them off my body. It is not a shedding that will serve me, it is an honoring. A recognizing that the stories that I have, the belief systems that I formed, and the experiences that I lived were the universe sending her message to move me on my way. The more painful the story, the more incentive to move. 

And so I sit in each story for just long enough to recognize her purpose. And I thank her for her time with me. It is only then that I let each story go, to sit in my truth and sink back deep into my belly - to my connection to self where my deep power lives. 

I am not worrying about what is coming next. I am nestled in my journey circle. And it is a safe place. A place of surrender. Of offering it up to the Universe and trusting where she takes me.
1 Comment
Bob Tutnauer
6/13/2016 04:10:44 pm

So, I am not sure where you are going, or where you want to go. I don't detect this when we are together or when we speak. We both have the ability to convey to any or all the persona that is right for the moment, but not necessarily true.

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    Elizabeth Rose

    Mother, Wife, Friend, Sister, Daughter, Dancer, Rower, Runner, Dog and Cat lover.

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