The Journey of Salvation
The tunnel had been long. Very long. The entrance had welcomed me and the closeted darkness enveloped me, an inevitable calm. I was in this for the long haul! There was no escape – why would I? I had welcomed the embrace of the close rock walls and the onward march through the mountain range. No need to question just set your mind to walk on into night, an end of self serving and feeding ego, the path cemented as your feet blindly trod the years. Sight adjusting, limbs mechanical in their clockwork time ticking tread, mind an endless cycle of caring too much, anxiety of provision and exhaustion in sleep.
And then the light.
Far off at first…a pin prick that seers retinas recoiling the senses. A future without the walls, beckoning our approach. Without that cocoon of darkness, without the purpose of decades. Each separate day would now be bright tomorrows awakening new horizons. No walls to touch and feel your way, the use of fingertips would now be redundant as would my shuffling gait and no vision. Reality would be rewritten, and rewritten, and rewritten again as every step would be surrounded with newness of opportunity, colour, vitality. Unfathomable potential but your hand grasps the plumb line as you start to reel out and reel out and reel out – immeasurable!
Of the former things there can be no turning back – of the womb life existence we will not hanker rebirth. But in this new country we will be born again and again and again into the wide open landscape that offers its limitless potential. So gone is the career that was leading down that dark alley, gone the mindset that limits, gone all the boxes I was expected to step into at the behest of others limited view, gone the paths I thought I had to traipse down in my developing view of what was expected of me, gone the endless need to earn, earn, earn, my toll to keep me on the same black track.
So what is really different?
I have found my voice.
Like a canary from the mine I have escaped the cage that my own thinking, other’s thinking, my belief of life was trapping me in. And suddenly instead of roaming lost I have flung door after door open inside and discovered I live in a mansion. Pictures hang everywhere of stories written, being written and those long in the future for they haven’t been told yet. People are there who I once knew, know and are yet to know all waiting for my eyes to open. Maps and plans and lists lie waiting my attention, in drawers, on dressers, in hidden places; countries, hidden treasure and impossible inventories all ready for discovery. I laugh at the impossibility of it all as I realise my reality is so immense. And then I meet the author of all my own stories those already lived, those ideas unrealised and those awaiting my pending tray. He is there in every room, even the ones locked and sealed, left secured through shame, pain or embarrassment. He knows them all, he knows me. And the greatest story is heard in the release of my silent pent up sigh as I look him in the eye for he holds in his hands the salvation of my soul.