are no longer in a frozen wastes. The Ice Age is over.
Now I walk into a stone desert, arid and fascinating. Sometimes my anxiety erupts from the ground, but it is a liberating process. Many small increments of a lock, so many pieces of a puzzle into place.
anxiety passes into When fully embrace my feelings and let it permeate me. The moment you accept them and I can look in their deepest heart. She did not run away more ... and while I no longer need to run, I no longer lash out violently against them. Let them come to me.
My story becomes more and more ragged, less linear. In the race you can make thousands of curves, a thousand folds of twisted, but in the end we draw a line: a sequence of steps one after another. Now, however, uses a dowry of the Seeker: The search is not necessarily a sequential process, but multiphase, interleaved. The research does not point to a target obsessively ... Let it be the goal to reach me. Dall'incoscio Conscious ego.
Sometimes the best way to reach a goal is to stop pursuing it.
Now I see my thoughts as in a crystal lattice asymmetrical but ordered them related to each other by cobwebs wet with dew. And every drop of water, I see reflections all crystals, ad infinitum.
Sometimes the best way to enjoy the beauty of something is simply sit back and watch without trying to understand why we like it.
I feel that my dream narrative becomes less rational. And I am glad. I'm tempted to start telling the end, but I will make an effort and will keep the chronological order.
The Pit and the Tower
I resume the narrative where I left the post 13, before launching into self-congratulatory ode to my courage and boldness of my (joke, read the words in italics respectively obstinacy and despair ).
I was trapped in my desire to Golgotha \u200b\u200bInverso, a beautiful crater ghaiccio no output.
Now I'm out of my prison, and for once I can say with pride (this time I'm not joking, read pride ) not to be fled but had shattered. Unheroic perhaps, because I'd built by me ... but I'm still proud.
My pride is based on a simple fact and precise: to destroy my cage I faced myself, the more dark and obscure corner, something sunk in the roots of my being forever. Something that always made me suffer, I always took to run, to seek the love of others, to smash against a reality that did not want to see and accept that the cold and loneliness of human relationships. To describe this fear
uses an image very classic: a well. Dark, damp, smelly, so deep that the board did not end in sight. From this well is always a chill wind died and mephitic, full of fear, hatred and contempt for myself. A hollow voice that whispered to my dreams, fueling the fire of my anxiety.
Under the Tree I am protected from the wind. I'm wrapped in the scent of the flowers do not feel love for the scent. But in the end, encased in an icy prison in the jailer was so as the prisoner, I realized that the key to exit from Golgotha \u200b\u200bwas just down in the pit and grab the key.
In my view the Well is not just a simple hole (from which, for example, could leave the spirit of a girl is not dead, and killer). It 's a vertical tunnel and large, with a comfortable (albeit slippery) spiral staircase of stone. And over the shaft? a high tower, consisting sun pillars and arches, without walls. A kind of vertical building Eur. Internally the tower is hollow: empty circle at its center is the continuation of the Well, projected out from the earth to the sky leaden clouds.
And here begins my company. In
Well I went down, in absolute solitude. No one could accompany me. During my long and gradual descent, many times the darkness overcame my lack of courage but it was only a delay. In every attempt, riuscvo down a bit 'deeper. Gradually, I let my apology on the steps, my false security, easing of all my defenses useless. There are dangers in the Well, there are not demons. Only fear and darkest truth.
doing so, one day I have reached the bottom and my surprise was great. Deep in my soul I could not find a tentacle monster, a nightmare of fangs and perversion.
I found a bare room with a flashlight and a wooden chair. And the chair? a child curled up, alone and in tears. Desperate.
Fear of being abandoned. Fear of not being loved. Afraid to be alone to cry in the dark.
is what has always troubled me. I do not know why, whence he came. I think the divorce of my parents and especially the sad and dark period that followed. But it is fear. So much so scared.
That day there was a big change. Crouched next to a child, I recited my credo:
- you can have Fears
shame - you should not be afraid of fear
- you should not hate but fear
accept it for what it is - you should not despise but Fear just deal with it day by day. even if you can not beat
And the baby stopped crying, I took her hand and we became one. I drove toward the light, above ground and higher up, on top of the tower.
The Hub and the Wheel
From the top of covering the whole tower Tartarus, in all its glory. A biting cold wind but not cleansed by nostrils of the Well and the stench reached an understanding in the clear air.
We were at the center of Tartarus, like a wheel that rotates around a hub consisting of the shaft and the Tower.
On the roof of the Tower? off a brazier full of a thick oil and life-giving, although heavy and slow. Together, me and the baby we used the torch to ignite the oil, causing a red light and dark but full of hope. A light a beacon in a world of desert and desolate.
Exodus from Golgotha \u200b\u200bReverse
time has passed since then, looking at the story behind these things. Now I'm in the desert of stones.
My Exodus was not an act temporally specific and precise like the Bible. No
Moses open waters. But in retrospect, I realize that I have brought down the wall of ice that were closed on me, on the opposite side to that where I crashed.
Next. I have to adare forward.
The Desert Oasis is rich, produced by humans that many channels as they try to dig. I concluded that one way to avoid starvation is to cultivate much of the land, without investing in excess enthusiasm and energy. It is not (only) cynically disregarded as an investment, even exceed expectations. When they are disappointed, my heart loses another piece: I'm tired of this erosion process, I no longer have the strength and desire. I fear.
The Oasis is valuable, give me rest and relief. But they are only Oasis, I can not stay long. Oasis are the flashes of joy that brings light to my heart ... but my heart is still empty. I am no longer lost and lost, now I have the determination that sustains me, burning from the top of the Tower, but this is not the time or the place to stay. Here I survive, I support and learn new things. But life is another thing.
The real joy, the love that flows from deep within and is still far away. Yet I am confident: they are released from Golgotha \u200b\u200bInverso, will also come from the desert of stones.
The Journey of the Seeker Continue.
