When I see you,
it’s like staring down the sun.
One morning, a person walked up a long set of stairs, carrying a bag of rocks in each hand. Upon reaching the top, they noticed the unnecessary weight they carried. Of course, they then let go, right there at the top of the steps. At that moment, the sun flashed in their face, and they walked towards it. The brightness swallowed them up. One story ended; another began.
The truth is hidden by your orb of gold, O Sun.
I think I have a nibble of what this week’s AO reading means. As might be expected, I’m still hanging onto some old things. Skeletons in the closet, you might call them, or the rags of yesteryear. Like the person carrying the bags of rocks, it may be time to set them down so I can walk unhindered into the light. That raises a question: am I ready to let go?
Am I willing to trust myself that I won’t repeat the mistakes of yesterday? Am I willing to trust that I will navigate carefully, that I will listen, that I will act with humility? If I probe deeper, I almost have to ask: can I forgive myself? What is there to forgive?
Am I willing to acknowledge, but not follow, my fears and anxieties?
Underneath the surface, there’s something I keep picking at, yet cannot quite identify in words. It is, I suspect, some kind of wound. In keeping with the tradition of the AO Khonsu, I should probably figure out what it is.
But I’m careful. Careful to make sure it’s not some incipient mental illness. Careful to make sure the OCD doesn’t come creeping in. Careful to not make it weird. Careful not to loosen too much control–you don’t have to let the raft drift aimlessly to go with the flow. On the contrary, going with the flow requires some effort from you.
All I’ve got to do is push myself a bit. While I don’t need to find the answers now or even this week, I have to try. My path requires effort on my part.
I will travel the distance in your eyes.
Interstellar, lightyears from you.