JW: Taking the Dark Stairs

What is the barrier we both seem to feel?

What is the danger we fear as we glide across

the thin ice of vulnerability?

What danger lurks in the dark waters below?

What danger keeps us clinging to the rocky shore,

afraid to let go,

afraid to leap in,

afraid to unleash the bright beings we are?

What is the tidal wave of disappointment

gathering on the far horizon,

pushing me back,

grabbing at the rooted safety

of the silent land?

What makes me hide from the light?

What would it take to let go, be seen,

be free?

Immediately after writing the above, I went down to breakfast and chose the bright, outdoor stairs. Seems like an obvious choice, but for the ten months that I've taken the stairs rather than the elevator, a small resolution for health I made to myself when I moved here, I've taken  the stairs right outside my door which are not only dark, but they are also filthy, cracked and lonely, unused by other residents.

It was only recently that I discovered that there was a different option: outside stairs: bright, clean, offering the same health advantages as well as a chance to see other residents and the gardens. 

I discovered these stairs a few weeks ago but still took the dark stairs until a visiting friend asked if we had to take the inside stairs. I said "no" and led us to the others. As we descended, I noticed how much better these stairs felt and wondered why I had insisted on taking the dark stairs for so long.

For me, this seems like an answer to the question of how I will know if I'm getting "it" ... the purpose of our journey. Suddenly I had an awareness of how my choices reflect my inner being and wonder in how many other ways I've been taking the dark stairs, choosing to make do rather than opting for the bright, joyful option that is also right in front of me.