It is morning. You have made it through another night and once again the light appears. What do you feel in the moments before you open your eyes?
What do you fear in the freedom of the unconscious before the world makes itself known? If your consciousness swims in stories of the suffering of others which you cannot repair, pain that will not abate, you are not here to be the one who saves them but rather to learn to be at peace with the illusion of their struggle. Your compassion cannot cure them, but your trust in their journey may set them free.
Are you one who dreams of your own destruction? Are you chased by predators who seek the reward of your capture? Then you are not here to outrun them, to find safety and protection, but rather to turn and face their brutality, to make them dissolve as you name them, for they are the ones who forge your strength, they are the makers of your safety within.
Does the dark fill with expressions of emptiness wherein the flow of creation ceases, lack steals away all comfort and in this abandonment you discover a self-hatred so deep that it seems you were never worthy of money, beauty, plenty or even love? For in spite of the song, it is love we seek with our money, the sense of being valued not only by the world, but by our gods. In this way the lack you fear may never be filled up by hard work, luck or fame. It has come instead as a witness to your own emptiness and like the Mockingbird will call back to you, exactly what you have to say.
Do you open your eyes in the morning, only to see? Do you listen, always to hear? Do you grant yourself time to let the tumult of fears rise, mist on the lake, so that the greater truth of all order and perfection may be found? I promise you it awaits, like a clear dawn after the storm. There is nothing else to do except to trust in what you have yet to know. It is the blindness of sleep which will take you there.