Sometimes the appearances of this life break my heart with their beauty. The perfect moments when the sun rises through the forest floor, and the mandala suddenly feels close. Like it could pierce through this ordinary world, this ordinary mind.
Sometimes my heart breaks for the storylines of self I've been holding onto like a maypole inside. That self I've been protecting and dancing around so furiously. Her lifetimes of trying to be perfect. Her lifetimes of running away. Her lifetimes of sitting by the path and weeping, because wherever she runs, she only becomes lost again.
Sometimes it's in these moments that I really contemplate the teachings; That the path to peace is actually to step off her well-beaten path. Notice its pull, but resist it: and move instead into the wild forest. Led by faith and a lineage of wise Gurus who have done it all before.
Sometimes it feels like the practice is guiding me to start to see, and trace, the outlines of that painful dress of self. And then to stand and step, ever so gently, out of it. Let it fall away in its mere illusion, and move into the space of light. Boundless potential.
In memory of Jennie and Teresa, and their journeys into the English bluebell woods. Photo credit: Lake District National Park, Click and Learn Photography on Unsplash