You have to learn to walk away from it all, or the psyche can’t bear it any more

420152_10150741781489703_1319035889_nIt was a most celestial evening. I walked through the gate, just past my little writing-yoga animal-shelter hideaway, Honey leading the charge, and was instantly transported. Like a snake shedding her skin, I let go of my endless overwhelming earthly tasks and stepped into an open landscape surrounded by a circle of pink-orange-hued clouds—clouds like angel wings, spreading in all directions . . . east, west, north, south.

The beauty of the early evening was so intense that it quickly cleared my head. You have to walk and walk in nature, and learn to walk away from it all, or the psyche can’t bear it any more.

So many things in life have become like a strange, long-ago dream. The whole sexual drama ebbs and flows with the cycle of the moon. All my little glimmers of hope—false hope—are so quickly dashed now. It’s a painless, peaceful, mystical time. It might not last, but it’s here now.

I’ve so earned the gift of being alone. Of reveling in solitude. The light of dusk—-the in-between-world vibe—lifts the landscape into the realm of the eternal, the land where time stands still. At this hour, for just a little window of time, every step on the dirt path takes me closer to the lightness of childhood—the Garden of Eden.

There will always be a mischievous teenager living inside of me. But tonight, for just a moment, I had the eerie sensation of being maiden-mother-crone, all at once. I could feel the maiden-mother-crone archetype imprinted on my cells—but also like a ghost walking beside me. The crone, the crowning glory . . . I can feel her within reach.

When the night feels this soft and beautiful, I always have a fantasy of not turning around, not coming back. To just keep walking deeper into the creek bed, into the mountains, to sleep like an animal in the bushes, or in some small shelter . . . When I’m very old, I don’t want to sleep in a nursing home with scheduled meals, a TV blaring endless entertainment, and a wrist band in case I wander off. I hope my legs stay strong so I can walk the land like a witch, like an old gypsy woman, and disappear . . .

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3 Responses to “You have to learn to walk away from it all, or the psyche can’t bear it any more”

  1. Jackie Says:

    Beautiful……I hope you don’t end up in a nursing home either! What a wonderful goal it would be for us all to end up as free spirits right till the end.

    Like

  2. Free spirits right till the end | The Spare Room Studio Says:

    […] When I’m very old, I don’t want to sleep in a nursing home with scheduled meals, a TV blaring en…  The words that I read this morning that sparked something within me. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all remain a free spirit right till the end. Regardless of our physical restrictions, regardless of the surroundings of our earth-bound body. A free spirit right till the end. […]

    Like

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