I wake up.
I am on a desolate path. I know not where it ends. Only that it must be followed, no turning back.
There is a part of me that feels very vulnerable, very fragile, as if made of very fine china, or very thin glass, able to shatter at any moment.
Another part is strong, eternal, I know it will last forever.
Which of these is myself? Which will I follow, identify with?
That is my task – that is our task – to find our true identity.
To find where the path leads.
The vulnerable part feels very, very alone. As if there is nowhere or no-one to where it can turn for help.
The eternal part, perhaps already long on this path, knows there are many helpers, seen and unseen, surrounding it, just waiting. Waiting for an open-ness for the vulnerability, the uncertainty, the unsettlement to ease, to melt away.
Waiting for that opportunity, that possibility, that there is at last an inner awakening, a space of surrender, an opportunity to lift the vulnerable part, in willingness and co-operation, beyond the uncertainty, beyond the restlessness.
Lift it into true peace, into joyful-ness, into love. Accompany it, however long it may take, to the end of the path, to freedom.
