taking the road less traveled

 I spoke with someone today who said she could see my angels, my protectors. That they were all around me, that there were a lot of them, that they wanted me to know I’ll be ok.

My skin tingled when she said it. It felt like Truth.

When I agreed that she could tell me more, she said they were giving her an image. There was a trail before me that split in two directions and I was standing at the fork, deciding.

In one direction there was a lovely, rolling path. Paved over gently undulating hills, following a peaceful stream through a bright meadow, this path was simple and quiet. It had flowers and grass and evenly spaced fruit trees. It had everything I could need. But it was dulled, its colors muted. It was as though it were being viewed through fog, or sunlight filtered through Washington winter clouds.

In the other direction, the path shortly plunged into what can only be described as a jungle. There were huge trees with huge leaves. Vines, mosses and mysterious flowers blocked the view of the trail ahead. There came a cacophony of sounds, only some of which could be identified or trusted. And living creatures, not all of them friendly.

She told me that this second path was vivid. That the colors were bright and myriad, that the whole scene seemed to be teeming with life and danger and excitement. And she said that my angels were telling her that, although I was currently unprepared for this trail, that it would rightly seem scary and foreign and threatening, that I could find whatever I needed. If I proceeded, I would find the tools or equipment or gear necessary to survive the jungle and end up like a badass female Indiana Jones. But I would have to start off without. I would have to trust.

She asked me if any of it made sense to me, if she should ask them for clarification. All I could do was nod and say that, ‘yes, it makes perfect sense’.

And then, this person with whom I’ve only ever had one other conversation, she told me that one of these invisible protectors or spirit guides or ancestors was telling her that I needed to remember that nature will heal me. To seek ‘the sun and the grass and the green spaces’ in order to fill the ‘hole in my soul’ that has been there since before I was born. That other things will only make it deeper and wider. That I’ve always known about the hole, but chose to be born anyways because I knew that it was fillable, but then I forgot. And now I’m remembering again.

When she told me that last part, I started to cry. I could see little Sarah, deep in there, scared and anxious and worried that she wasn’t enough. Knowing that she was missing some little piece and that it would cause pain and create havoc. But then she smiled, and wiped her tears on her dirty shirt sleeve, and started walking…

Straight into that terrifying, spectacular jungle.

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