A letter to myself. From myself.
I know you want to run when things get hard. To jump over fences to greener grass. To dive into warm ocean waters. To fly away to far flung places … seemingly easier spaces … tightening your laces. Away from the irksome, towards the ideal. To the perfect plan, just out of reach.
This, dear one, is an invitation to come back home to your heart.
The ‘out there’ will never fully satisfy you … until the ‘in here’ satiates you. Until you soak in the solitude, the silence, the stillness, the sublime, the surrender of your heart.
This is your woven way. Until you learn the lesson, until you glean the gold, the tale is told … that you will run. You have traversed a great distance. Valleys and hills, a battle of wills.
Each step you take, is a step away from your heart.
I plead with you to pause. To turn around. To face the fury, deal with the despair, meet the misery, confront the cries, unmask the monster … I promise, she’s not the hungry lioness you think she is.
The very act of running, invites a chase. A pace. A race you didn’t know had allocated you a space. Slow your gait, steady your grip, stand your ground. Turn around. Dare to gaze in the eye of the huntress … and realise she is you. She seeks to catch you, not kill you. She carries a message:
Come home to your heart she whispers in the wind as you stretch your stride.
Come home to your heart she cries as you catapult forward.
Come home to your heart she beseeches as you block your ears, clutch your blinkers.
She never gives up. She is always with you. She knows she will reach you one day.
So you both keep running.
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