Losing Sight of the Shore....

I have heard it said:  "One cannot discover new oceans unless one has the courage to lose sight of the shore"
Had I known how terrified (or cowardly) I would feel after allowing myself to actually lose sight of the shore, I highly doubt I would have been so fervently asking for 'deep change' in my life; had I reckoned with the possibility that my whole world and mind would turn upside down.
I had not thought of, nor intended, to begin my voyage to new oceans in an environmental hell realm...I thrive in beauty and esthetic balance. For me, my new residence has neither.  Rather, the walls and furniture close in on me and although I do have some exquisite antiques and fine art...they now are suitably placed and feel like ghosts of the past...they used to reflect back to me a sense of creative solace. Now, with a felt sense of wherever I rest my eyes, everything I see looks tacky, dumpy and even funerary!!!  Something is dying inside of me since I moved in. This house is not big enough for two Ego's--one of them will have to go...here's hoping it is my Large Ego and not the necessary smaller ego.

This home is a far cry from the coziness of the Bilbo Hut. I wake up each morning and feel like I have been whisked away to The Purgatory Home for the Wayward.  Maybe this deep change needed to first begin with this amount of disequilibration. It has become apparent that the misery I am  experiencing, is in realizing I 'have' become Wayward!  The material and interior of the house has become a 'mirror' for my plight. This home has been my first step in 'losing sight of the shore.'From where I lay my head at night, I look upon 'things' that no longer hold my adoration.  Well, adoring 'things' is a sure way to get lovingly/lifesavingly slapped up the side the head by the Muses of "Wake Up-Your Soul-Boat is Sinking!!"  Since I have not yet learned to walk on water, I am going to have to settle for the much needed ordinary mode of water transportation: dog-paddling through the under currents of the familiar me now becoming a stranger. In my further search of what really matters to me, I find the need to ask myself: 'What am I willing to risk, lose or sacrifice to find out?'

I have clung so desperately to 'my shore' of having a particular style and esthetic to my home or life; to stave off looking at the current persona that I have tried to project that 'all is well, all is peaceful with my soul.'  This particular move has seemed to just rip off any mask I was wearing from the moment I arrived.  Now, tender, vulnerable and exposed, I sense another pivotal spiritual crossroads is at hand for me. I find myself clearly half way in, with no going back--the shoreline is barely visible at this moment in time.

And so it is, I have set sail and have been 'invited' to loosen all the moorings that I have counted on thus far in my life...Some evenings there is a full moon in sight but there are those moonless evenings, where although I need to make this voyage solo, I am guided by the stars; reminded that there is another shore awaiting my arrival....


Gracie Garp