Avenues That Beckon

When I write, I become absorbed. Not just minutes, but often an hour or more passes with only my peripheral awareness. Writing transports me from my small self into something that feels larger and deeper both. It is one of the ways I touch the life in the present moment. In addition, the process and its results have brought me into contact with individuals and ideas that have further shaped and enriched me. Writing, it seems, is a lure beckoning.

A natural extension of the idea of Spirit’s omnipresence is that opportunities to touch the Divine are ever-present as well. As the mystic poet Kabir put it, “Wherever you are is the entry point.” While these points of access exist in each moment, they are often most enjoyably and easily perceived in those activities that attract us.

In the late eighties, Joseph Campbell, author and educator in the field of comparative religions, made famous the phrase “follow your bliss.” He felt that by so doing, “you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and (then) the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living.” It seems that bliss, then, is the voice of our deeper selves reverberating down the avenues that beckon.

Now, of course, discretion is needed. Addictions and other soul-harming practices can, after all, be quite compelling as well. But most often we know the difference between pursuits that bring us to the warm center of an absorption that feeds our soul, and activities that numb us and pull us away from our true self. And if we’re ever uncertain, the fruit of an activity will tell the tale.

I find it curious, though, that we often resist doing those things that bring us into this rich experience. Some of us seem almost determined not to allow ourselves such abundance. It may be as simple as mistrusting our ability to choose wisely. Or perhaps we believe that we are undeserving, that a full life is for others, not us.

But often I think there is something else involved. Sometimes, as I sit to write or meditate, I recognize a certain resistance, an inkling~~or at times a huge dollop~~of avoidance. What’s to avoid? Both activities nurture me.

Of course, sometimes it’s simple laziness, since something is exacted from me by both endeavors. But when I search down to the bones of this phenomenon, I find a hint of fear. When we step forward into an unknown, no matter how enticing it may be, we are never quite certain what we will encounter or who we might become in the process. Intuitively we know that whenever we respond to our soul’s guidance, things will change, and often quite quickly, too. This can be unnerving. The alternative, however, is to live in the shadow of what we might be.

Whether we yearn to create art or a garden, to hike through the national forest or dance, to develop a spiritual practice or a new career, that urge may very well be the voice of our deeper self coaxing us forward.

Perhaps we would be wise to gather up all the insecure, lazy, frightened, and undeveloped pieces of our soul, grasp hands with our Higher Self, and step forward over the threshold into the future that awaits us, the one that calls our name.

I wish you well turning toward the voice of your own deepest self this week.

Blessings!

Loanne Marie