A new year, a new decade, we have arrived in the 20s. According to many ‘lightworker groups’ out there the beginning of a new, a golden era. The old will crumble and fall to pieces and we will trustfully melt with our higher selves and be Light, Love and …
Well, you name it.
Since around 11.30 last night I am feeling nothing. Absolutely nothing, except a slight sadness and deception.
Imagine the hero fighting his way through dense forests full of toxic snakes, sneaking past or challenging evil wizards. Doubting his sanity more than once, in fact every day and making his stand on the threshold to final destruction at least three times a week.
But in his dreams there is this Golden Door, framed by lush roses. Behind this door, he knows, he believes – beyond any doubt – behind this door he will find The Key.
The Key that will unlock the secrets in himself and finally lets him find his place in the world. No more fighting, no more doubting, no more desperation or pain.
The Key behind the Golden Door was what drove him onwards, through fearful, horrible nights. And every time he had fallen to ashes, he had risen again. A Phoenix of belief, of trust. Closing his eyes in the final effort for bravery and seeing the Golden Door and The Key in his heart.
The Key awaits and finally our brave hero has climbed the steepest mountains, fought some trolls and obscure spirits and by sunrise he stands before the giant rock. His mouth stands open, he wipes his eyes, he touches the solid surface of the rock. And his fingers smear the colourful chalk of a child’s painting. A Golden Door, yes, lush roses, beautiful to look at.
But, ayeh, it was only a child’s painting, nothing else.
The first rays of the sun hit the hero’s scarred body, his tired eyes and his melting heart. Burn the warrior to the ground and leave gray ashes that the wind will soon take away to faraway lands.
And the last thought of the Phoenix echoes through the void: I won’t rise again, too tired, sorry, folks.
Another hero, disappointed and with no more hope in his quickly shrinking heart, another hero decides to rise no more.
I am sitting at a small wooden desk in an ecolodge in Urubamba, writing down my feelings on this super special New Year’s Day, the beginning of a new decade, the promise of Big Change.
And all I feel is tired, disappointed, crushed.
What have I endured all this for? Six months of holding on to the belief of finding something, a dim light, the flickering of a candle, something inside of me that let’s me see through the veil of all the horrible nights and fears and sadness ridden days.
But all there is: the painting of a child, an illusion. Colourful and nice to look at, but in the end nothing has changed inside of me. The promises of a ‘Spiritual Awakening’ spooky hallucinations on just another day that has to be lived through. Waiting for nightfall, then finally sleeping and hoping that January, 2nd brings fresh thoughts.
And, who knows, maybe there is a spirit out there who still believes in the Phoenix.
If so, please come! I need you now, more than ever…