It seems that I have managed to manifest exactly what I yearned for, and now find myself afraid of embracing it, caught in a wave of resistance as I contemplate running away. This is my familiar dance between disappearing and embracing.
I was young when I perfected running away. I might disappear on my bike for most of a day, or sequester in my room as darkness fell. If commanded to be with the family, I could sink into a book. And when that was banned, I learned to meditate into the dark safety of my mind. Running away was always my first choice, and often still is, when my heart senses danger or captivity.
And yet, I discovered that I could not disappear and build a career that required me to persevere and endure, even while my soul cried for freedom. I learned to be profoundly resilient, but seduction does emerge from an empty heart. Somehow, I have to find that place where dark and light swirled and danced, where I hid my wild soul for safety so many years ago. I need to set myself free.
I barely remember the way, but I know I must cross a narrow bridge, spanning a ravine of stone and light, buffeted by singing winds and howling lights. Then there is a winding path calling me, a staircase of stone and root and earth away from the confines behind me. And there she is, my wild spirit dancing freely with the storm in the open meadow I remember from my dreams. I watch, wondering if I truly ever was a force of nature, a power larger than life and soul, so free from worry. And then, in a moment shorter than time can measure, I am her again.