Why?
Art Elena Ray
Every once in a while, a certainty drops in.
I’ll see a place where I’m sure if had just made this one different choice, my son would be here.
In that moment of certainty, I take back all of my trust.
I take back the feeling that the creator is holding me.
And enter the land of extreme poverty.
A land where I am a small god.
Who somehow had the power of life and death.
Scarcity, the gate guardian, flings the door open.
“Come in.”
The mind starts it’s madness.
Flagellates me with “what ifs”
With “if only’s”
And I notice it’s trickster quality.
How in its small god power, it’s attempting desperately to save me from the deeper thing underneath.
The mind trying to keep me afloat.
With distraction.
Anything it can do to keep me from dropping into the endless abyss of pain below.
Trying to be an ally.
But really it’s trapping me in aimless loops of unreality.
—-
Slowly, tenderly, I find my way back to the door of The Big Gods.
Crack it ever so slightly.
And am met by a dusty sliver of light that penetrates the dark.
In the light, I remember
There is no control.
It’s not up to me.
I don’t have the power of the gods.
Human, I am.
What a relief.
I can surrender into the groundless place again.
And trust that I will be held here.
By the Mother who’s love nurtured all of my ancestors.
Who will nourish me.
When I let go.
Of control.
Of the mind.
Of the need to know.
Why
