Guarians at the Gate, part 2
They stood like ancient sentinels guarding the path beyond, boughs swaying like green dancers in the wind, bowing, scraping the ground with needle-sharp pricks towards those that would walk beyond their borders. Their trunks timeless. Who knew how long they had stood there, watching? They carried secrets wel, not betraying the travelers who had wandered past. The truth was everyone who came here was searching for something – meaning that lay amongst rubble, leaning into the winds – the sometimes gentle, sometimes steep decline into the ravine below covered in scattered leaves, a year-long fall. The trees for the most part still bare, naked branches stretching higher than I could see – realizing that while my head seemed even with some of these tree tops, the began far below my careful perch, feet dangling carelessly down inot the ravine, where the wind rustled through the branches like it was whispering a story anyone could tell if they carried half a mind to listen. You had to listen well. Squirrels chattered and disturbed the underbrush, frolicking and carefree as the birds circled far overhead, collecting nesting supplies in preperation for the onslaught of a heady spring before rushing headlong towards the heat of summer. For the most part, despite the breeze, it was still. The first completely sunny day since my arrival and, een here, deep in the heart of the woods, the sun made its way in splotches through the tree canopy overhead, dappling the ground in streams of bright light and the sound of laughter from far away. Laughter seemed at home here, yet strangely foreign. I leaned with my back against an old trunk, a remnant of a once towering tree, wondering what its fate had been – wondering what mine would be, after traveling the distance of a whole life, certainly much shorter, but not for lack of effort. I shifted slightly as my foot fell asleep, feeling the familiar tingle – feeling alive. This place, by default, breathed life and the will to live into everything it touched – you couldn’t come here and not feel the raw energy – the power of the breath within everything it touched – you couldn’t come here and not feel the raw energy – the power of the breath within everything here. You could not come to this world and not be touched by it. Claimed by it, somehow.
The ravine beckoned, tree roots marking a nice, natural staircase down to the wooded floor, so I followed, finding a patchwork of green in a canopy of browns and golds, sitting on a fallen log bridging the gap across a lazy brook aspiring to be a river. The sun shone brightly here, reflecting off of the water like a million diamonds scattering in every direction.
I sat in the middle of a green meadow soaking up the sunlight like I was a flowering plant – in a way I was. I was blooming here in a way I didn’t realize or anticipate – I don’t think I could have been prepared in any way for this evolution – this catharsis. This awakening – becoming. Peace is different here, in a way that I doubt there are adequate words for. It’s not a simple feeling, or even a realization as much as just a simple state. It is simply the way things are when you surrender yourself into it, when you allow yourself to breathe it in, to inhale the warmth of a meadow’s sun-glow, bugs flying around you, some sort of large spider making a home in the grass around your feet, sitting on a split and fallen tree trunk, watching the brook pass you by, following trails like footprints leading you further in. I had to let go of a lot to get here, but every step of the journey was worthwhile – mud caked on my boots as a lingering reminder that sometimes you have to pass through dirt to arrive at a place of pure beauty in serenity.
It was also an important, yet surprising thing to note that the climb down was a lot easier than the climb out. It sapped all my energy to take that rooted staircase up the ravine. But the exhaustion, the racing heart and shortness of breath never for a moment meant that the trip wasn’t worth the exertion. Serenity. Beauty. Peace. Awareness. Awakening. Worth every breath, every thought, every moment. I was aware now that everything’s good, everything’s fine. It is okay, not just some wayward, far flung promise. It is good. This will stick. I have every faith it will.
It turns out that the guardians were not keeping anyone out. Nor holding anyone in. Just a sign of warning that entering this place will awaken you. That you will see the weight of your own fears and limitations – and encounter the raw power, strong enough to overcome them. They stand there watching, still. They always will. Gaurdians of a world, beyond. And I am grateful for their meaning, their gifts, and their lessons. I know I carry their spirit with me, wherever I go, now. I know I always will.