Another of the theme blogs I wrote for the loving souls over at Nourishing Storm. Go see what’s new and good.
Sitting with Anchor. I am visualizing this fantastic cosmic ocean that is everything. Everything that can ever be imagined before it is imagined and everything once imagined now made manifest. And living is this wonderfilled experience we have within and through this ocean. It is like we are the waves even as we ride the waves.
This is where my mind has been lately on a whole. Seeing my greatness and my smallness. Understanding the duality that is me and everything in this world. And also understanding the oneness of me and everything. Evolution and involution.
This is the journey I’ve been on lately. And the first thought of anchor, well, I sank with it. I’ve been moving out in this great sea of life. The thought of anchor seemed like a drag on my progress. I want to keep moving so I resisted it. And I know well, the places where I resist usually have something more for me. So here I sit again with my anchor.
Anchors are not fixed. In fact I would only have a need for an anchor when I am moving between shores. My anchor is merely a connection between me and whatever I choose to have it take hold of. In that light, this theme doesn’t drag me down. It allows me to stay in the cosmic ocean. It is just a tool. It cannot hold me down unless I use it that way. And I’ve come too far to use it that way.
My anchor will hold my ride if I need to get out and swim. And I will need to get out and swim. There will be times I need to feel myself within the ocean so I can understand us both a little better. There will be times when I need my anchor to hold my space while I wander and listen.
The anchor I see for myself is not forged in some heavy metal. My anchor will be made from the Truths I’ve mined so far. It is forged by the fire of my soul. It is not a weight to carry, it is a reminder of the weight of those things that keep me grounded while I’m out at sea.
I will use my anchor wisely and only when needed. And when it is time to move on, I will pull my anchor down from the skies. I will shake off that North Stardust and blow a kiss to the winds, a “thank you” for their tests and graces. Then I’ll raise my sails if the winds favor me. If they don’t, I will pick up my oars and row. And I will move on until the next stretch of sea begs me to drop my anchor and swim again. And it will.
“This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil, “ – Hebrews 6:19