This trek was meant for me with teachers who showed up for me as they once promised from another time and another realm.  How much of the trek I spent resenting their very existence.  And as I scan the eternal view of how much farther I have to go, I realize that I have my moments of anger and resentment for the immense power of this trek where the teachers still cross my path.  It’s time to set some new intentions in this breathing space.  I’m still carrying far too much baggage and the weight will certainly destroy me somewhere out there as I gaze upon the  uncharted territory that calls my name.  I want the resentment to fall away and I wish to leave it behind here and now.  I gather up all the sharp and jagged pieces of resentment and anger that I have been dragging behind me, cursing their weight which has caused me so much effort and pain. I could have left this stuff behind at any turn but it was my cross that I chose to carry.  My bleeding hands, holding the shards of broken fragments of pieces of the past, clutch the security they have held for me along the way.  I feel the tears well up in my eyes from deep in the core of my heart. The attachment and meaning that this all gave to me has truly been an unreal gift.  A gift that has, at times, left me bleeding and blood-shedding, scared and scary, tormented and tormentor.  A part of myself that I’m ready to release back into the universal continuum where it’s all ready and primed to be transformed into something more than I could even dream for it.  It was time to go on a new journey.  Standing at the edge of the cliff….I placed the damaged pieces who taught me grace in a neatly gathered pile as if they had been placed there in the ancient times with a story to tell and for others to come upon and for others to make up their own stories for the meaning of this sacred relic.  I wiped the blood from my hands on my torn up jeans.  I bowed my head in reverence to my old teachers whom I was leaving behind.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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