I have heard people say, somewhere
Over the hills and far away
There's the land named Peach Spring --
The country of happily blessed rebels.
The way to that land is distant and trek:
There are rivers and mountains and,
As I have neither vehicle nor vessel to steer,
How am I to go there? Some also say
That if I abjure my personal conditions
And give up my habit to stay here,
That will serve me for a vehicle
And a vessel to move to any place I wish.
Truly, to stay here, toiling like a galley slave
In the dust and under the blazing sky,
Instead of going and tasting the state of bliss,
Is a sort of outrage against the human nature. . .
On the other hand, as long as I thought to myself,
I came to conclusion that the way
To that blessing land is truly solitary and distant,
And there are no men on it
To support me in case of need--
Whom shall I have as my companions?
I have no provisions prepared yet,
And how shall I get food along the way?
How shall I be able to get there?
Those people rejoined me, saying,
'Minimize your expenditure,
Make your wants few, and though
You have no provisions prepared,
You'll find you have quite enough for you.
Wade thru the rivers and float along on the sea,
Where however you look you see
Not the shore, and, the farther you head for,
You do not see where your journey is to end --
At that very moment you will feel yourself
Far away from your place and your Self. . .'
Eventually I've come to understanding that
If, during his lifelong journey in the world,
A man can empty himself of himself,
Who can harm him? And how can he be
Not self-contained on the way to his dream!
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At that very moment you will feel yourself
Far away from your place and your Self. . .'
I have, during my two lost decades, come to terms with what you have described . . . I think it saved my life. It is a difficult road to stay on, but it is a road of fulfillment of the mystical you, not the physical. At least that is how it seems to me.
Always,
Deborah