Life is a journey.
As a metaphor, it’s a bit worn-at-the-seams and softened by time. It reminds me a bit of a stuffed dog I’ve had since childhood: I return to it when the going gets rough.
Today I pulled out the trusty journey metaphor (and the blue dog with the squeaker in his nose).
But let me back up a few nights…
The dreams started as simple murders. One person, one killer. I never saw them – just knew a death had happened.
When I awoke, I thought: change is afoot, I am killing my old life (selling my house, moving from my neighborhood). All makes sense; no worries.
I didn’t pay enough attention to when the dreams changed.
As the nights went on, the murders became serial. The killer wore a pale blue necktie and had a bit of a dark pink glow about him, like the lighting in a noir movie (no, I haven’t a clue what the pink and blue is about. Seemed like interesting details to my subconscious).
I suddenly felt the need to protect myself in a way that I hadn’t during the earlier dreams. As I would surface from dreaming – and feel the pull, the tug, that would yank me back under – I would grab onto an image of protection. My mind went to Bear and I held on tight to that image as I was yanked back into sleep.
Perhaps you figured out where this was going before I did, but needless to say, there have been a few more metaphoric deaths in the past few days than the ones that I had personally put into play.
Which leaves me dusting off both my hiking boots and my life’s a journey metaphor.
Here’s what I have been reminding myself:
If your boots are clean, then you’re an armchair hiker without a dirt path or deer track to your name. Until you’ve done a face plant in the mud, you haven’t actually walked the trail.
Sometimes I think the entirety of a “good life” comes down to the willingness to break in your boots and wear your mud with pride.
Just like you, I have trouble believing this when I am on the ground with my face full of mud.
But time goes by, the path unfolds, and new vistas open up. And if they don’t, then I know I am not done journeying.
In the meantime, the mud is pretty good for my complexion… and yours, too! Try a green clay mud mask with a drop of helichrysum essential oil. After it dries, steam it off. I like a drop of neroli in the water I use for steaming.
Does this solve life’s problems? Hell no. But sometimes a little bit of nurturance goes along way when the road has been long and the mud has been deep.