Exhausted, I awoke to my alarm at 8am.
switched it off.
surprised when I only stirred again at noon.
I wandered a bit, ate a petite breakfast, then took off for the farmers markets, both of which had closed up early due to:
+ the heavy clouds,
+ the stirring tempest,
+ the thunder,
// the growing wind.
I turned to look for coffee, but decided at last second to hop on the tram and ride out to Mariatrost to the famous basilica.
Rain beginning to fall in its heavy first droplets as I reached the first step; a downpour blessing each of the 216 steps as I passed over them.
This crossing of borders, this pilgrimage I am on... some say it is courage to leave all you have with no guarantee of what's next.
But I had no choice; I had reached an impasse, a Moment I Could Not Ignore. And here I am: + treading paths,
+ ears opening,
+ eyes learning to see only that which is in front of me,
+ reading interactions between people where language fails...
I am learning about intimacy and trust that develop between two strangers, between myself and the unknown. I could write for days about all I am seeing and coming to know. I'm incredibly blessed to be on this journey. How much I/we/some miss when we're locked in the trajectory of day to day problem-solving.
Answers accost me now and my Seeing Eyes present themselves.
I sat inside the church - in stillness near Other-Pilgrim; I looked at the beautiful, marble columns that hold up the altar around the Holy Mother.
I have this repeated fantasy/daydream/fear of being in a cathedral when it collapses - frescos falling, steeples stabbing.
As I knelt there, I saw the church as human-psyche-interior/Architect Intention: the ornamentation we regale ourselves with, the relics of dead children and holy-hands, and the richness of the life unsuspected from outside.
The speed of a dismantling varies: from slowly, carefully, gently to so quickly we barely perceive the destruction in the instant. But rebuilding is possible, though slow. And things will naturally shift and be destroyed, but it is not impossible to change that which seems stalwart.
I admit > > > I wept in gratitude.
Grateful to see that my worst fear could bring the best of change to the seemingly unshakeable Self... who exists just above my Self of Self. . .
I later sat in a café in Graz Innere Stadt and read this:
"There is a saying that when the student is ready the teacher appears. This means the interior teacher surfaces when the soul, not the ego, is ready. This teacher comes whenever the soul calls -- and thank goodness, for the ego is never fully ready."
I am [not] ready.
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