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Folding in #42
{Be sure to listen to the audio version for the guided meditation portion}
Three eagles came whirling around my body as I lay in the sun. They sang and circled from my base chakra up into the crown of my head and then flew away, one by one, and in a blink, evaporated into the blue ether of the sky. I'm tired but wired, and rest eludes me. I am not allowing something to register, I can feel it somewhere in me, a concealed truth, rattling away, but I won't let myself hear it for fear of it telling me to desert or change the life I have been knitting around myself. This happens from time to time. I fall out of alignment and can’t conjure the willpower to look where the joint has come out of place. I have been laying the bricks for a road and stall on the path, considering what I've been doing. The eagles told me it was time to look.
Speaking to an elder, sagely woman, who paved her way to very successful heights, I asked her how her life felt. She used a word I had never heard before, "untenable," she answered. I looked it up in the dictionary. It means "not able to be occupied." In other words, unlivable.
Life is this way, one brick at a time. Then bent and sore from all the adding to the placing of the stones, you straighten your back and look around. You're in a country you've never known, and you're not sure you like what you see, but you glance behind you at the long, meandering, beautifully paved work of your life, and you say to yourself, I must keep going this way, I can't stop until I make it somewhere I feel I can finally rest my legs. I will stop once the valley opens and poppies dance for miles, then I will rest and receive. But the quandary of every builder is the road only stops in death. Will you continue to postpone your joy? Looking at the stone in your hand, what would you change? What will you do differently?
