The Light

I recently had the great privilege to be driving the only vehicle sitting at a red light in an intersection at 3 in the morning. There were no other cars but mine. There were no people anywhere.

The moonlight scattered through some clouds above me but essentially every other direction was dark. I asked myself: "Why is it you choose to move uncertainly through the dark when you can clearly see the path toward the light?" (That sounds a touch religious, doesn't it? I suppose pursuing this kind of lifestyle could very well be religious; it is certainly one steeped in dogma.)

There was one major source of light as I sat in the intersection and when I shifted into gear, I drove what felt to be parallel to rather than toward it. For some reason this struck me.

I feel that what it is I'm seeking is in plain sight and the obstacle between us is my resolve. I've been compelled toward the dark only because it's familiar; it's conditioned. I'm compelled toward the dark because my eyes have already adjusted.

I want more clarity in my world and in order to have it, I need to take myself out of gear, look to the light and shift in a way that makes sense, instead of in a way that feels expected.

If I take myself out of gear for a moment; if I disengage, I can try and define where I sit these days. So in the next post, if I can muster the courage, I'll paint for you my Barn...or what's in the way of the moon...or all the noise that fills what should be an empty space.