Ready Or Not

I woke from an interesting dream the other night. There were lots of details and story that are lost in the mist now, but I journaled that I was in a strange house with lots of rooms, what seemed like teenagers rooms, and bathrooms that were like restaurant bathrooms. There was a woman there who was asking me about my path and how I got started. I was stammering, not really sure how to explain or even remember, and because I don’t even yet know how to identify myself as my path does not seem clear to me. I could not articulate myself verbally, so I started to try to write out my thoughts to her. She stopped me and said, “Wait, let me try this”, she held me in a firm embrace and inhaled deeply. As she inhaled, she breathed in my whole essence, and it was as if we were completely linked. I could read her, and she could read me. She could see and feel the root of all of my fears, seeing where they splintered and led my mind (although I could still not see my own fears or how to face them). She suddenly released me and said, “I am sorry. You are not ready yet.” She looked apologetic and faded from the dream. I could feel myself trying to convince her to stay, to explain. I was making up lies and delusions to myself, trying to tell myself I was ready and that I could handle whatever it was that she saw and knew. Trying to convince myself that the warrior within was ready for battle. But I knew in my heart that she was right. Whatever information she had for me, I wasn’t ready to face it.

This was rather disappointing because I’ve been using my dream oil again, and journaling tons more details of my dreams. I’ve had numerous encounters with what seem like teachers. I believe that I am learning, but I know deep down that I have lots more to learn (and really, the only time we stop learning is when we close our minds). That my road is a slow and winding one, with many baby steps. Perhaps a lifetime’s worth of them. I used to never think about fate, not in depth anyway, or the after life. I didn’t believe in life after death, or the evolution of the soul. I assumed death would be like being knocked unconscious….suddenly filled with unknowing, unfeeling darkness and no memory of the moments being sucked away. But now, I am rather consumed with thoughts of this nature. I’ve come to some conclusions that are hard to explain, but that in my mind, I understand, that I grok. I’ve had a number of experiences mostly through dreaming, but also awake, where I am within something and also without. A person, an animal, a landscape, a universe. That I am simultaneously existing here and elsewhere, that I am me, and not me. That I am others, and that others are me. It brings me to fate, and to what I believe is waiting after my life as I know it ceases to be. I believe in both fate, and the free will of choice, as much as free will brings us to that fate. I know that sounds impossible, but when I wrestle the thought, it stops fighting. It makes sense. It’s almost like…there are different flavors of fate, and based on which way we turn, fate might have a slightly different taste. Like…ice cream. Fate is like ice cream, and no matter what we do, which way we go, we will end up as ice cream. We have the cream, and the sugar, the freezer as a means of getting from ingredients to ice cream, but as we walk through life and accumulate knowledge (or scrap it), we acquire different flavors. Maybe we turn to cinnamon ice cream, or vanilla, or banana, or hot fudge. Or maybe we taste like coal. But in the end, we become what we are meant to become, and the flavor is what we picked up on the way to the end of the road.

It is said that you must be brave to “wake up” your Fate, the Great Spinners and Weavers, by crossing into the Underworld. If not woken, the fate is left sleeping.

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