And the vision was unexpected. Because I don’t have flashes of insights via visions; I don’t see magical stories flash before my eyes of emerald cities and soul mates.

I’m strictly a word-based epiphanic journeyperson and, even then, only if there’s appropriate punctuation.

But I guess there are times in your life when you find yourself walking beside grief. And that’s been my “lately.” Because mine has been a path of communicating in heart space as a “feeler” amongst “thinkers”, trying for a meeting of the minds so to speak with people for whom logic is a balm for despair. And at times, it’s been pretty excruciating.

For some skins are hides crying near the overpass with a gun in their mouth and still not seeing they have a problem. And the unfortunate truth of “thinkers” is that while they don’t offer the world their heart space—kindness, empathy, forgiveness—they still want the world to offer it to them, and it’s a dynamic which has made me feel the most powerful hopelessness I could have ever imagined. I’m naturally pretty grounded and hopeful but when you wake up to the fact that you could be the kindest person to someone, help them, forgive them, allow them to retain their dignity, and communicate that you are standing by an overpass with a gun in your mouth and they can still turn around and say “fuck you, loser,” that shit makes you question all people and even yourself for believing in hope. Like a dumbass.

And I’ve felt called (eg, can’t avoid it) as a person desiring growth to look at stuff—to revisit what I am and why I’m experiencing certain things in this time/space earth clusterfuck—since when it’s one asshole move after another invalidating your existence, you need to view it from a place of agonizing honesty or else you’re not going anywhere but “same.” Yet I haven’t been able to shake this one; haven’t been able to transform it into the sight I need. Until yesterday.

I was sitting in the afternoon sun with Mena, and suddenly “saw” a quickly flowing river with me planted firmly inside of it in my mind’s eye. I was basically just a black dot but I knew it was me, and the water was rushing over my head it was so deep but I wasn’t moving; it was just going over my head. And as I “saw” it— while still doing the chores, oddly enough; playing with Mena, etc.—I made to understand it as a human, and it looked of a scene where everything was just too much. I thought it was myself submerged in an uncontrollable current, overwhelming me to where I couldn’t hold on, and that the vision was indicative of feeling rather than any particular mode of growth.

But then suddenly it changed. And I realized that it wasn’t that at all; for as my body was in the water fighting against this unbelievably strong flow—just a black dot, submerged in a perilous foreign land—It switched in perspective just a bit and where I was still a body in water which was rushing even about my head, I also simultaneously became a spirit, and when the water rushed over me, as this spirit/body, I was laughing. I wasn’t concerned, or overwhelmed, I was experiencing all of the same things yet my perspective had switched, and in splashes of cold exhilaration, it became exciting to be so alive and awake and part of the power of it all. And arms outstretched, the river did what normal rivers would do, and jumped over my fingers making little waterfalls, and as I imperviously stood there, I was both in the water and also the water itself, and even now I can see me flipping my head back in this vision as if to look at “myself” and my face is filled with laughter and I’m joyous and powerful and unafraid.

And just like that, so it is that we move on.

Today, I woke up seeing it in my mind’s eye and feeling myself laughing in the water then got up—at Gus kitties house; doing a few overnights— and in spite of the marathon, made it to Mr. Baby’s (and fam) house, and took a picture of growth against a lightening sky.

Deep breaths, everyone. We wait in the river for ourselves to arrive.

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