Running Free

In the early morning light, the wranglers departed to gather the herd for the many guests planning to ride in a few hours. There were no whips cracking, just accomplished horsemanship gathering even the most defiant steed. Soon, they were assembled in a large corral as bridles and saddles arrived.

Throughout the day, they performed their duty admirably, but the greatest moment had yet to come. Like children standing at the top of the stairs on Christmas morning, the horses waited for the gate to be opened at the end of the day. They needed no escort as they ran to the distant meadow. The sight never gets old, I thought to myself, and as the dust settled, I got lost in thought.

There are all sorts of corrals. Maybe it’s one’s family of origin, place of employment, church, or school. We assemble in all sorts of places and ways, and share common connections, purposes, or interests. So, too, bridles and saddles come in all shapes and sizes. “We don’t say things like that,” someone might point out. “That’s not how we do things.” “You report to me.” I understand the benefit of gathering and appreciate the rules (written and unwritten) we create, but something deep within me wonders what life would be like if we were able to run free?

I consider myself a spiritual, creative person. Sitting there, I couldn’t help but wonder where I’d run if the gate was opened:

What would I write if I didn’t consider my audience?

What would I paint if no one would see it?

What would I sing if no one was listening?

What would I do for a living if money (and social status) was no a factor?

Where would my faith lead me if I didn’t go to church?

Who would I be if I stopped caring about the opinions of others?

Where would I run if I ran free?

Such thoughts were as unsettling as they were exciting. Climbing off the fence, I listened to the horses talking to one another in the distance. It sounded like laughter. I’ll bet that’s how we’d sound if we followed our bliss, to quote Joseph Campbell, if we were our true selves, if we were truly free.

This and That

Walking on the beach, I was surrounded by this and that. On my left were houses built in a variety of styles, all of which cost more than I could ever afford. On my right was the ocean with waves breaking rhythmically and birds swooping in search of breakfast. Walking with this on my left and that on my right, I realized how often I try to navigate between the two even when far from the beach.

I’ve always had a thing for houses. From the days when I was young enough to build forts, I have always sought the safety and security of spaces. That love has continued, and I have no doubt, like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, it’s tied into my perpetual longing for home. My search has led me to many places and caused me to look for “home” in worldly ways - people, places, and things. If I didn’t know better, I would spend my whole life looking to my left, searching for something to buy to make me feel complete.

But I do know better.

To my right lies all I need to feel complete. It’s there waiting, for free, for me and for all of us. All we need do is turn our attention in its direction, look from the left to the right, open our eyes, ears, and hearts to what’s right beside us. Whether it’s a crashing wave or mountain stream, beckoning sunrise or inspirational sunset, birds singing or friends gathered, we’re given all we could hope for, all we need to feel complete. The trick is looking in the right direction.

Puffing up the Pillows

“For many a dance starts with a trip, and many a song finds its opening through a cough.” Mark Nepo

The place was a mess. He’d lived alone for ages and didn’t care what his apartment looked like. “I should clean up the place,” he thought to himself and walked over an puffed up the pillows on the couch. Unfortunately, he thought his work was over, when, in fact, it was just beginning.

Maybe it’s my stage in life, but it is becoming clear to me that the most important work we can do is to become our true selves. After years of striving to be this or that, to achieve this or that, I realize what matters is finding our true selves. Such a quest is not an invitation for more striving, although it is going to take enormous effort. Such a quest does not mean looking for a new job, although the implications of such a journey may involve changing the outside of our lives. But where it all begins is inside.

Who are you . . . really?

Underneath all the outside and visible, is there a flickering light within you, longing to be seen or given air?

Turning one’s gaze inward is scary. Outward striving is easier. (Afterall, we have years of practice.) Looking inward is new and challenging. It takes time, and the results are illusive . . . but they’re lasting. It’s easier to puff up the pillows than get at the work that’s really needed. I, for one, am tired of puffing up the pillows.

In alcoholics anonymous, they say someone is either moving toward a drink or away. I think the same is true with our journey toward authenticity. In each action we take, each comment we make, we are either moving toward our authentic selves or away.

Only one direction leads to new life. We might stumble as we do this work, but that’s because this path is new. I have no doubt it’s worth it.