"Truth must be realized individually. It must be realized by you; otherwise, it is not your Truth. Only your Truth . . . is expressed in your life, not anyone else's. How do you find your Truth? By seeking and finding the Teacher within. You see the Teacher and the Truth within are one."
--John Randolph Price, With Wings of Eagles
What is my Truth? What does my Teacher within say? Each time I grow closer to my Truth, others taunt me as the oddball kid on the playground--the kid who dresses different, who looks different, who picks odd things to like.
No wonder we don't want to honor our own Truth. Often choirs gather around ready to sabotage even the earliest seedlings of our findings.
What if I purchase a funky bracelet that speaks to my Truth, show it to those closest to me, and say to them all excited, "Look at my new bracelet"?
"It's cute," they reply, no attempt to mask their sarcasm.
"It's my gypsy bracelet!" I try to share how the gypsy in my spirit is part of who I am, and how the bracelet makes my soul happy because it engages that part of me.
"I like how you excuse the tacky things you buy simply by calling them 'gypsy.'" That's what they say about my gypsy bracelet--tacky.
So if I have the Truth of the gypsy spirit in my soul, and I begin to express it in clothes, shawls, fringe, bracelets, it makes other people nervous.
The closer we get to our inner Truth, the more frightened some people become. Why? We represent the possibilities waiting dormant inside them. We represent their truest core trying to find its way out.
As long as I'm the gypsy, I'm terrifying the unawakened parts of people and a knowledge that inside them there is a golden latch on a garden gate that leads each of us out of being less and into being more--no, not being more, but being everything and then even more.
First we have to open the latch.
The gold of it shimmers, glints in the the sun. Our fear of being different, of wanting to be like everyone else tugs on our shirtsleeves and holds us back from entry into the magic garden beyond the golden-latched gate into our true selves.
This magic garden allows--it allows fairies, angels, explorers, scavengers, seafarers, and of course it allows gypsies. The magic garden allows whatever trueness our spirit holds.
We are gods and goddesses of our own gardens if we will only enter.
No one else but us knows what we are inside--what our wildness contains, but I've discovered in my magic garden that gypsy bracelets aren't the least bit tacky but are welcomed, lauded, desired.
So what do I want? I want my Truth to be respected. I want to live my Truth, but I'm not sure what that means, or maybe I'm sure, but I don't want to tend the magic garden.
Why? What if people don't want me or like me once I've discovered my Truth. What if I'm supposed to be a certain something to them? And why can't the garden I have be one of those that never has problems with weeds.
I want someone to say, "You are a gypsy. How marvelous!"--not how tacky.
How does one live where one is not honored fully? I wish the Truth and the Teacher within would answer that one.
I hear them answer in my heart even as I ask. Their response is kind. They giggle,yet are serious at the same time. "Find more tacky people to hang out with you in your garden."
I believe I will. And I'll wear my gypsy bracelet to my garden party.
Would you like to come?
---------------------------
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment