On The Odyssey Of Home

Healing, Knowing & Being

Our way-wending path home is lined with falsities

Fellow Heart Pilgrim,

I have known myself as an ill-begotten patch of woodland. My sunken earth swallowed up by the pull of a deepening mire.

My soul hoodwinked out of a body – my body beguiled out of a soul.

I didn’t want to know myself, I wanted to heal myself. Little did I know that there is a resplendent evolution that comes from, at first, wanting to heal, then needing to know, and eventually allowing to be.

We must allow what languishes within to journey - even if that means venturing deeper into the human condition before being able to see the nature of who we really are.

To become fetid by our tolerance for suffering is deeply restricting. For if we suppress our deep yearning to be free of sorrow and struggle, we become rubbed down raw by a caustic resistance that strips the luminosity away from us.

A lackluster life is not for me, nor is it for anyone.

For the infinite love of all that lusters

that is what I wish
for life; to be folded
into its sweetness
and then devoured,
whole.

On the imperative odyssey that is returning home to ourselves, we must allow what calls us to find us.

We are not the migrating bird crossing thousands of miles to return home; we are the home eagerly awaiting the return of our downy love. We are the mileage to which our wanderings gather, the wildish wind current that slips beneath gossamer feather, the North seeking the compass of the body…

The truth of who we are has been here all along, through our losses, flounderings, stumbles, and spins into whorls of symptoms, diagnoses, and pathologies.

We were here when our way-wending Mind went walkabout, away from the songlines of our soul. We were here when Beliefs went on a ramble and made a ramshackle ‘home’ out in the desert fray.

We have never left ourselves, only forgotten that we are already home. How else but through the litmus paper of the body would we know that this is true?

Does ache feel true for you – or does it swell upward, flushing crimson as it soaks itself beyond a line of what we sense is truth?

The truth has never left us, just momentarily forgotten

I am the love
with which
I love.

You are a truth keeper on this road of infinite falsities.

Wild is the one who uses their body to navigate their way home. Wilder is the one who knows that they are already there.

And if you don’t feel like you are home, perhaps you’ve nested for too long in the ‘I’ that suffers.

Open your wings and relocate your sense of self to that which is lovingly aware of all, to that which the body already recognizes as its own truth. And from this space of be-ing, you will be able to tenderly allow all to return to the home that you are.  

P.S. How amazing is it that our brains are wired for non-dualism because 99% of our human existence has been lived as Animists, seeing the undivided spirit in all animate and inanimate beings? And how interesting that all dogmatic religion started sprouting after we became land-dividing farmers and left our hunter/gatherer life behind…

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