The story of the Prodigal Son is a living truth. Most will not understand that Jesus was talking about that son in each of us. But for the few, it is the key to returning home to our essence.
We who want to return home are doing our best to shed the ego, but it doesn’t have to be shed! Once it begins doing the inner work of awakening, it goes right along with us every step of the way. But the closer it gets to home, the less the ego resists the journey. For the story of the Prodigal Son is about surrender.
We have all reached the point where nothing works. I know I have reached it many times over. None of us are perfect. But the call to come home will not be denied and so we begin the story again and again. “Once upon a time I stumbled so often that I vowed to walk the inner path back home. And occasionally I made a bit of progress.”
The story comes alive and we make our daily journey. For this is not a story in biblical times but our very own story of seeking and finding ourselves. And the progress is not something to brag about. We have grown too weary to do that. Now all we want to do is get back home. And we will. Step by step by step we will finally walk into the arms of our father.
What happens then? You tell me.
Vicki Woodyard
So the order of the day is to let myself sink into my heart…to be…to feel.
Right now, that is my course of action. To give myself full permission to be just as I am. It’s the only thing I know how to do.
To confess that I am tired. To move forward by writing “a word after a word after a word.” To confess that I have no idea what I am doing. To admit that the “controller” and the “figure outer” in me is bewildered…and that I love that word, “bewildered”, because it feels like a beautiful truth right now. To confess that I’m not sure how, or even if, I will move from this place.
Stll, somehow, I am breathing deep breaths and smiling into infinity. I am carried by something stronger than the thing that wants to fight for it…to claw for a place in this world.
There is a belonging that doesn’t require a thing. There is a belonging that is clear…simple. I don’t have to look for it. I don’t have to struggle for it. I don’t have to earn it. This belonging is a song of being alive…no more…no less. This belonging knows the exhaustion of the excited mind trying to prove itself…and it says, “Rest”. It says, “You are not lost. You have never been lost in your whole life. You only dreamed that you were. You only dreamed that you were not home.” It tells me I am safe. And it says, “Keep walking. Keep walking to the center of the fear of your dream. Find out. Find out what you actually are.”
It says I am beautiful. Not by comparison. Not “for my age” or “compared to other women” or anything like that. I am beautiful because life is beautiful. Existence is mysterious…and gorgeous.
The human heart is beautiful. The human struggle is so sweetly beautiful. Mistakes are beautiful. Being laid low in sadness is beautiful. That tenderness is beautiful. Triumph is beautiful. Standing up over and over again is beautiful. Forgiveness is beautiful. The human stories…the things that soften us and strengthen us; the things that guide us to be curious or kind or courageous…are stunningly beautiful.
We are not separate. Whatever I am is not separate. It belongs. So I can rest in that. Not in some imagined future. Not when I’ve “gotten it all together”. Now. I belong now…and I can rest in that now. This experience could not be here if it did not belong…as much of an “odd duck” as I sometimes feel.
I don’t know, right now, where I’m headed. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring or where my next paycheck may come from. I am constantly steadying my legs on this wobbly walk…and I may never be a success in the eyes of the world. (And something has a very hard time just letting that go. Something argues.) But I am here…and glad to be here. I am glad to be alive. I am glad to be surprised all the time.
I never thought my life would look like it does. Isn’t that something? Life itself is amazement. Wonder is a skill, it seems, and I am, little by little, learning that skill.
Sometimes it feels as if I have been hiding for a long, long time…away from surprise…away from wonder and amazement. I have been trying so hard to keep myself safe…trying not to be seen. I have been trying not to be the child being called on the carpet. I am seeing that so clearly right now…and I am giving that child all the love I can. I am holding her so closely. We guide one another, this child and I…we are One. The parent shows the child that she is safe. The child shows the parent how to play. We are discovering together.
Brilliant writing. Just brilliant!
Thank you, Vicki! I so appreciate that coming from you.
It felt like an energetic match to what you said about the Prodigal Son. Sometimes I feel like the prodigal daughter.
Yes, it is very powerful writing. Maybe submit it to an online spiritual mag. We are all prodigals lost in our heads and refusing to live from or hearts.