Within These Walls
We discover we have so little because we ask so little, we have learned to expect so little because we believe we deserve so little. So we lead little lives and yearn for more, not knowing why our lives don’t grow and expand.
We erected walls because we had no boundaries. Before the walls, we were inundated with thousands of tiny poison arrows until we had to find protection or die. Our tiny innocent earthly bodies went to ground and hid, our budding wings crushed and our growth stunted.
We got so used to this prone position that it seems normal to creep around on our stomachs or on all fours, keeping our eyes down and our heads in the dust. Our walls keep out the darts but they also keep out warmth and wisdom and light and life. They stop us finding the way home.
No-one is coming to our rescue because no-one knows we need rescue. They are used to us in this position and they think we chose it.
The wild corridors of our soul know the truth. They create doorways and shine lights on soft landing places outside the walls, helping us to pass through the barriers. But the walls need to be knocked down, not run from, otherwise we might climb back in again.
And without knowledge of why they exist, we go on believing we need them.
There are ways to make the walls crumble: another soul comes along and takes them apart, a piece of music or writing melts them down, we paint or write or sing their disappearance, or we simply command them to dissolve.
But like a dog with a bone, we need to replace it with a bigger bone if we are to let it go completely.
What replaces the walls? What will keep us safe yet still allow our lives to finally bloom, generating a growth spurt that will take us higher and wider than the walls could conceive?
Once we find that one key, which is different for all of us, the reconstruction begins, and our lives grow so big the walls can no longer contain us.
What will your key be?
image by Julie de Waroquier
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