Real and honest

Or fake and nice, hidden away, locked up behind words and spells and wards. A door that’s been hidden behind for centuries, one that we finally have found. Volcanos and plumes of smoke, lava bubbles and boils, overflowing over the edges of harden rock. Stalagmites drip their steady staccato in a place full of heat, breath becomes ragged, we use our conscious minds to keep the chest heaving. A place where water sizzles with every drop, a hiss and a pop as it expands and bursts and fills the air with thick steam, it smells how all things smell when they burn so far down that only the harsh tinge of their essence remains in the air, unidentifiable yet a whisper of a memory of the form they once held. I remind myself to breathe, to slow down the heartbeat, to keep feeding oxygen to my brain, to keep my chest from caving in, to keep my mind from dissolving like ever piece of human love that has turned to ash within this great hall, until now... The body feels unsure in this place, it’s a mind over matter kinda scenario. A moment of extension where all we’ve ever learned comes into play when discipline and focus and mastery are the groundwork upon which we step. This home fit for very little life at all, the fires that blaze and the creation of rock with each layer of sediment that drips is some of the only life that forms and stirs. Life of the elements, still in constant creation, an archaic kind of home, a place where titans lay to rest, where earthen gods are born or discarded, damned to eternal life in the place farthest from the sun. A hellscape in the eyes of many, or simply a place of sensation and temperature and visual stimulation to others, those who breathe, those who have found themselves here, opened the gates to their soul, pushed to the edge… how far can I go without breaking? There must be some reason for it all, for if I stop I will disappear like all others who have made it this far. Faint echos of their bones and molten armor scattered before the base of these great chasms of instant death. A place so uninhabitable that even dragons only find their way through here in passing, a route to get to their treasure troves, they only stop long enough to huff out their displeasure at the sight of this wasteland before traveling onward. The questions that arise fall away like sand from an open palm as the breath continues to flow, as the soul continues to gleam. A body can die in these conditions, yet a soul can live on. A soul can reach out a glowing golden hand, move through all pain, all the promises of living undead, of eternal damnation and doom, of karma inflicted and received. A soul, our souls, the eternal one. To reach out and touch and turn the doorknob that we have spent our whole lives searching for. A fate destined and achieved. A plan set in motion and brought to fruition. A soul only finds themselves down here, awake and ready, clear, bright and steady, when the ending has already been foretold, prophesied by mystics throughout the ages, written in scripture and scroll, taken, burned, discarded, destroyed, yet their legacies of truth live on, encoded in cell deep memory, a living landscape only remembered the instant it’s activated within. A glowing golden hand that moves through all matter, all form, all noise, all chatter, the hand of the soul, reaches out and sparks the door to life. A living entity, this doorway, brought alive through touch, laid sleeping, quietly waiting for eons, knowing that one day it would rise and awaken once again, though never fretting, for it’s time would come as all the myths, and stories, and legends foretold. A turn of the knob and it’s open, a passageway, a portal, to something new, entirely unknown, always changing, yet a place to call home. A humble step through this ancient gate, this all loving place, rippling out kindness and care and limitless possibilities. A doorway as an access point to a whole new world. Spaciousness tingles at the edges of my mind, awareness wraps and moves all around as if being able to see in any direction. There’s swinging walkways to palaces covered in mist, lit up by floating golden lanterns that dip and hover in formations reminiscent of the stars, constellations upon this land beyond land. There’s clean shimmering waters that move as if breathing, there’s silken creatures that dance and dive and play in the crystalline falls, their laughter twinkling like chimes. There’s brightness and clarity in the air as if breathing is the greatest gift we could ever receive, for this sacred air fills our whole beings with aliveness and freshness like we’ve never known before. The air tastes sweet and earthen and the colors that glisten and shine from every surface hum their songs of resonance. Life is everywhere and teaming with expression. The plants move and sway and dance their joy as all beings on foot or wing glide by, complete inner and outer joy as they go about their lives, some float, some hover, each moment a portal to the next, where life is yearned to be lived, just begging to be experienced, and this they do with unwavering certainty and confidence in their own unique paths of attained desire. Creatures of all sizes move with a steady knowing, a quiet grace as they step with purpose and ease, their lives overflowing in the magic they give, receive, experience and live. All that surrounds has been awakened to the beauty way, the way of seeing the brightness, wonder and pure divinity within all things. Joy bubbles to the surface around every corner like tears in the eyes of true love, unrestrained, while all expressions of one’s soul are welcome, held and appreciated. Anything one could ever want or need is provided, yet little is asked for since the sheer volume of fulfilling magic within every instance is palpable. What more could one want when so full from the inside? What more could one crave?

To go back into the dungeon… or to sit back and rest in the peace of awareness.

The options are endless, and there’s no wrong way to turn. Listen to your heart, feel it in your body, and in time the mind will learn.