Inspired by my story and the stories of all the amazing humans that I have had the pleasure of working with over the years. Created for THE HERO’S JOURNEY, my yoga based workshop (upcoming dates TBA).
Looking out at the horizon: A guided journey.
Looking out at the horizon, you reflect to yourself that this might be the last time you take in this view … for a while … or perhaps forever.
Up here on the dune, amongst the familiar landscape of sea grass.
You gaze side to side in observation of your surroundings. You observe the sea grass and how it is being guided by the wind, as though in a gesture of surrender … as though each strand Is accepting an intuitive plan much bigger than its single blade existence. It moves. It seeks…
Take a deep breath.
And the ground. The ground. The soft, ever accepting sandy earth beneath your feet. Your roots. Your foundation. Your existence.
You take a deep breath (pause). The smell of salt air fills your nostrils.
You take a deep breath (pause). The crispness of the wind burns your nasal passage.
You take a deep breath (pause). The subtle textures of smells … the layers … the familiarity of home … it warms your heart. And in that moment, for a moment, you get a glimpse of your essence.
The sun is out. Its rays penetrate your pores. The warmth provides you with nourishment. You take a deep breath (pause) … as though your pores, your being, craves…. It craves something more.
Looking out at the horizon… the ocean has a frantic energy. The waves in the foreground are creating diagonaled cross sections, uncertain which way is in and which way is out. Polymorphous mounds of energy pulsating, attempting to find order.
A frothy white blanket covers the shoreline – thick, saliva-like. As though the ocean is foaming at the mouth. A desire for something more, something satisfying, something tasty.
The birds are bopping up and down on the surface of the sea. The sand is churning. The rocks are tumbling.
Uncertainty sets in for a moment. As though the churning of the ocean exists within the pit of your gut.
You take a deep breath. The sensation subsides.
Looking out at the horizon.
Looking out at the horizon there is stillness.
The place where the sea meets the sky is even.
You can barely differentiate the colors … subtle hues of blue being buffered by a line of atmosphere. They are all the same – the air, the sea, the wind, the sun.
This assures you.
Looking out at the horizon you see a faint blinking light. From a ship? From a lookout? From another dimension? What is the source? Where is it from? Who is there?
Looking out at the horizon.
You are reaffirmed that it is time.
It is time to depart from the familiar chaos that you have called home.
It is time to peel back those protective layers.
It is time to seek the light.
Something calls to you. You are not completely sure what is it is, or why you must go.
You know it is time.
You take a deep breath.
You turn your back to the wild sea knowing that it is a big risk.
But today that risk is necessary.