Crossing The Celestial Equator Into Light
Many years ago, during my darkest hour, I held a small grain of hope that there would be days like today. A still, clear, quiet, sun-dappled morning–children sleeping in upstairs rooms, an old dog curled at my feet. A populated solitude. Alone but not lonely. This is a day extraordinary in its utter ordinariness. I had faith and I am here and I am grateful.
The final years of my first marriage were like walking barefoot along the razor’s edge of sanity. Each careful sliding step away from my old life sliced me to the bone. I was not just leaving a marriage; I was extricating myself from destructive patterns of loving. Truly changing yourself is not an easy exercise. Imagine self-amputation of a seemingly vital organ—you are sure it will kill you—but miraculously it cures.
As a result, there is a dividing line in me as essential in marking my soul’s journey as the equator is to solstice and equinox. Invisibly it divides the point of illumination from darkness–a breathtaking split-screen transformation. It fascinates me that nobody else can see it. Like a tear mended by a master seamstress.
I celebrate the good that came from that time of struggle and I draw upon it often. It colors my appreciation of the present. Nothing is ordinary. Time will often slow down to reveal the vivid beauty of sight and sound, smell, taste and touch. I am calmer, more at peace. My foundation is not easily shaken. I have been to the precipice and I know not only what I can endure, but also what I can overcome. I am wiser, happier, lighter.
All around us are people who embody their own unique experience of crossing their celestial equator from darkness into light. I recognize them more often now. They radiate a luminous quality no less spectacular than the first blooms of spring turning their faces to the sunlight. They too had faith, and they are here, and I am grateful.
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