Everyone sees the unseen in proportion to the clarity of his heart. ~Rumi
Let us not be fooled that our experiences are merely events happening to us—but, in fact, events happening for us.
I have taken up drawing again. My first drawing was one I copied of a tree. Then, I looked up at the trees outside my window and saw the moon peaking from behind the bare branches. I added the moon to my drawing just as I had seen it outside, and then an owl. I then saw an image in my mind—an old man with a craggily finger pointing toward a long road.
I drew the old man and his wrinkly finger. The wise old man was saying to me: Go, for the road is long. Not only is the road long, but it is unknown. Who knows what we will find there, what twists and turns, treasures and obstacles we will find on our road.
Little did I know that on my road in the past ten years I was shedding tears of suffering, loss and disappointment at each turn in the road not realizing that this turn wasn’t as bad as it can get. It can get worse, and it did. When I first began the journey, ten years ago, when I left my home in the cul-de-sac to live my dreams, I did not know these twists and turns were coming. I thought, arrogantly, hopefully and ignorantly so, I was going to a better life. I didn’t realize the life I was leading was the better life.
Now, I sit in the basement of my father’s home ten years later having given up everything for a dream. This latest turn has brought me to a place inside of myself where I have given up all hope. A place where I no longer think everything is going to get better, even though that is what everyone keeps telling me. A place where I am afraid to keep walking on the road, even though the wise old man tells me to go. Yet, even in this place, I have miraculously pressed on.
I see I have an opportunity here. It occurred to me in the kitchen of my father’s house this morning—I can begin a practice with the unseen—again. I once lived in the unseen, a time before I allowed the stuff of life to take me down into the mud of doubt and shame. The place of the unseen is of Spirit, where a spiritual wisdom lies. It lifts us from the mud, if only for a moment, so that perhaps as Rumi states, our hearts become clear.
This latest turn has been so muddy and murky, it seems I forgot I am of Spirit- that this space exists. Or maybe more true—not forgotten. In fact, I remember Spirit, but felt it had left too, like so many other things, which has caused even more suffering. Here I have been, a person who has devoted my life to my spirituality, and yet, I wasn’t even feeling held by it anymore. I thought it had let me go.
But, every once and awhile, in quiet moments I am lifted above the mud. I see that this experience, this latest turn is happening for me. This is the perspective of Spirit. It asks—what if this crisis is spiritual? What if this experience isn’t happening to me as some cruel twist of fate that is trying to destroy me? What if it is actually happening for me so I again return to Spirit, to apply all that I have learned and practice my faith in the unseen.
The Soul Reporter