I was hiking near the tree line when it started to
rain and I was washed of where to go. Looking about,
I realized that the fates wait for the moment that we
finalize our plans to set our maps on fire. They send
a storm to blow the secret from our hand. And let a
downpour wash the trail from under our feet. Not
to be harsh but to force us to believe in ourselves.
When overcome with things too big to understand,
our mind will stretch. When stopped by things too
delicate to hold, our grip will soften. And touched
by things impossible to name, we drop all pretense.
I was caught in the rain, in between worlds, and I
could see: What makes these mountains majestic is
how they were ripped from the earth and frozen into
place. To stand before them dwarfs all human trouble.
It’s the same when our souls are caught rising through
our faults. When forced into the open, we break
into majesty and settle in our place.
This excerpt is from my book, The Way Under The Way: The Place of True Meeting (Sounds True, 2016).
*photo credit: Unsplash
Originally published at medium.com