I am still here, on my Trail of Storytelling, in the dark forest of my fears. If a wide path suddenly opened to left or right and I could see an easy, well-lighted, friendly passage that would get me out of here - I admit, I'd stay on my trail. If a bright light that suddenly blinded me but showed me how to climb above the canopy to a higher, brighter plain -- I must confess, I'd raise my hand to hood my eyes, and stay firmly on the ground.
I am happy here.
I've traveled the broad highway and even come close to Enlightenment. But I'm happiest here, in the fearsome forest of creating story.
Sometimes, usually in the murkiest moments, when I just want to sit down in the bole of an ancient tree and become part of it, something happens to encourage me. A ray of light exposes safe passage on the path, a butterfly shows the way through a dense tangle, the trail itself smooths for a few paces, making traveling easier.
Today I feel drawn forward, willing once again to take steps, to tighten my pack for the new tools and new adventures ahead.
Whatever else happens around me, I want very much to stay on my trail in the forest.
What do your fears look like: a forest, desert, ocean? Have you ever abandoned a treasured "calling" for another?
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