At the Threshold

I am a woman on the sofa wondering where my life is headed. My body feels deeply suspended in something I cannot name. I have no sense of time and day. It's Tuesday but it feels like Saturday. I feel called to a purpose but I am not sure what that purpose is.

I am at a grand door, trying to crack it open so I can slip through, but the door won't open. I feel like I can open it. I just need to release the mental block that I am stuck in. To let it go. To stretch my hand with ease and I will float, the way the body does when you surrender to the water and trust it.

My heart aches for what there isn't. The world inside me is so rich but it's not manifested in what is. It's an excruciating kind of pain to live in here and to know that this is not what reality is.

I feel like I belong in an enchanted world where everything is possible. This existence feels locked because we have convinced ourselves that this is it, that the mundane world is all there is. But just like swimming, if we relax our muscles and believe in the possibilities, all the dimensions will be accessible to us.

Sometimes I think if I focus just a little bit more, I will unlock the secrets of the world and by the tap of my index finger everything will dissolve like a drop of paint dropped in a bowl of water. I am at ease and I am one with the silence. My heart is at peace and I hear it beat slowly, almost still, like it's delicate

I fall into a dream, exploring the unknown and dismantling every bit of my existence like a puzzle piece. Instead of finding where I fit, I am busy examining every inch of myself starting from the edges heading to the heart of it.

I feel like I am part of a story that will one day become a legend and people will sit and admire the legend and the woman that was. But I am still here on the sofa, reaching.

I crave so badly to have the answers to why.