One thing I’ve come to know with all my heart, is that we are all desperately trying to find our way home, trying to get it right during our time here on this earth. No matter how many veils we may wrap up in to protect ourselves from having to face the Truth. The truth is, behind the sounds of the city the voice of the soul is always saying “Take me home. Please” Some are born with guidance as their birthright like a golden spoon in their mouths, the only thing they have to do is choose to put one foot in front of the other and walk the path carved out by their forefathers and mothers. Press play and let the music unfold into a beautiful melody of stardust. Others don’t have such clarity; some are born into darkness like a hidden secret under the stairs. But every now and then the Light of a sun from a distant galaxy calls them to places where Angels sing songs of praise at twilight. A conversation ensues between the Light and the secret in their souls but they don’t understand it yet. Their road is long and life itself is the guide that will teach them. And sometimes whilst the world sleeps they cry into pillows and if a loved one lying next to them asks them what the cause is of their sorrow, they gaze into the darkness but have no words. How do you describe a deep longing from behind your heart for a Truth older than the sun? They know there is something more. Something Real yet intangible. Something absent but Present, current yet ancient. But where does one begin to look for what you didn’t know was already looking for you? In which direction do we point our compass? And sometimes when life is too dense and they can’t see the magic behind the concrete towers, they seek a way out. Sipping spirits in hopes that it will lead them to the Greater Spirit. They inhale herbs wrapped in paper in hopes that they may float with the smoke to the other side of the rainbow, only to wake up the following morning veiled and aching even more. These people may be called dreamers, rebels or outcasts. They are often misunderstood because they walk to a different rhythm. They tend to be artistic as the light they have within is seeking the sky and if they don’t get it out it seems as though they might just explode, right there on the pavement leaving only a trace of Stardust. They outshine the small towns and small minds from where they came. Often arriving in capital cities with a backpack full of dreams and a sparkle in their eyes reflecting the sun from that distant galaxy we spoke about earlier. Sometimes they are illuminated other times degraded, sometimes it seems as though they are knocking at heaven’s gates, other times they wake in the gutter with dirt on their face. It’s just like that sometimes. But they’ll be the first to notice the rainbows in the sky on a soggy London afternoon or point out Orions Belt when the heavens turn a navy shade of blue. These seekers are my favourite kind. Because they’ve lost blood and teeth and friends and themselves - to eventually find within themselves the treasure they were longing for. These people are what I would call ‘Bravehearts’ because they are bold enough to follow the Northern Star, bold enough to adhere to a call from the desert and run towards eternity with no desire to turn back. How could they? When their entire life has led them to this very place. A place where they can hear their soul say “Thank you, we made it home” and a voice from the Unseen welcoming them in, to leave their shoes at the door, to sip warm tea and be still for a while “The journey has been long and your limbs are weary.” And when such a pilgrim arrives at their destination, raging rivers gush forth from their eyes for the years of trying to get it right, desperately. Years of trying to find the Light and then the Light found then, when they least expected it. They weep because many didn’t make it, many of their comrades had turned back leaving them to walk the path alone. For some the path was too steep, the trenches too deep, the dark times too harsh and ‘fitting in’ seemed so much easier, so they made friends with the illusion and their quest for the Truth became a thing of the past. They weep because the life they know and the world from which they came must be cocooned to give way to a butterfly that has been waiting for its moment, knowing that this is just the beginning on their journey towards Eternity. Dedicated to the Bravehearts, the seekers, the misfits, the artists, the restless, the golden, the broken and the sincere ones. God bless you. All praise is due to the One whom we all seek even if we don’t realise it.
Posted on: Sun, 25 May 2014 15:06:19 +0000
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