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Knocking At The Door


 The new is unfamiliar.  The ego says, it could be your friend or it could be your enemy.  There is no way to know.  The ego says, because you cannot know… resist it.  The spirit says, because you cannot know… allow it.  If you resist it, you are resigned to only what you currently know.  If you allow it, you will never be the same.  The new will always transform you into something different.  The old familiar ways have not delivered to you, the desires that you seek.  They give you promises.  But they are only ever empty promises.  We want the new.  But when it comes knocking on our door, we hold to the old walls of our belief systems.  We hide in the corners of the painful familiar, pretending that we are not home.  The ego dies a kind of death when you move into the new.  This is why it does not celebrate change.  How can it celebrate its own death when death is the thing it fears the very most?  Even the most courageous people on earth, feel the sickening sting of that fear.  The difference between the person with courage and the coward is that one moves in the direction of that fear, while the other runs away from it.  Too many people on this earth spend their time adjusting their lives to their cowardice.

It is interesting to watch myself during this change.  On a surface level, not much has changed.  I wake up.  I walk through the murky purple color of the dawn light.  It poorly illuminates the angles of my house; just enough to make my way downstairs to do some oil pulling.  There is a shaving of frost across everything.  I make my raw protein shake.  I walk back upstairs.  I sit at my easel.  I start to paint.  The hours go by.  The sun rises.  I hear people in the house stirring.  I get into bed and wait for Winter to open the door and climb in bed with me for his morning cuddles.  I make him food.  I put my hair in a ponytail and put on my workout clothes.  I put a leash on Gus (my giant brindle great dane).  The girls and I go out for a morning walk.  I come back.  I make breakfast.  I talk to Blake about business.  We go our separate ways to start back where we left off yesterday with our life’s work.  Graciela hands me lunch that she’s made me.  I eat it in-between projects.  Time is lost again in the inspiration I feel for the various things that I do.  Before I know it, it is time for dinner.  We finish out the day together as a consciously chosen family, talking and having fun.  I put winter to bed by singing him songs.  Lying in bed, I withdraw my focus from this life.  I leave my body.  My consciousness visits any number of places and dimensions within this universe.  I come back.  And the process of my life repeats itself.

hand-4036918_640.jpgI do the same things I did before.  But my mind tells me that something is different.  I am stepping into the new.  I am suffering another death, an ego death.  My identity has to be re written.  The old blue prints have to be revised.  I am not one for stepping backwards.  I may feel like closing my eyes when I do it, but I open the door when the new comes knocking.  And it is knocking louder than usual today.


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