The Shining Self

When I was 16, I was homeless for a short period of time, and one cold and gray day got lost in the woods. I’d climbed up a wooded ridge, crossed a dirt road that ran along the crest, and then down the other side, where I found a small lake at the bottom of the ravine. It was very still and quiet. The sandy shore all around was raked into even grooves. I did not like the place. It felt eerie and unnatural. But when I turned and looked into the hills, I saw smoke lifting above the trees. I decided to see who lived there.

I found what I believed was a path to the cabin, but the path petered out.

I found another path, but it too stopped abruptly.

I looked for a high place where I might get a clearer view and found a large boulder. I scrambled to the top of it and stood above the trees. There was the tendril of smoke off in the distance. But there was another, and another, many tendrils dotting the hillsides.

I’d been chasing mist. I’d been following deer tracks that went nowhere.

I was cold and hungry. The light was falling. I abandoned the deer paths and headed straight up the ravine. Dense scrub brush halted my way.

I went back down the ravine and looked for a better approach. But soon I was against the thick undergrowth again and could not get through. It started to drizzle. The sky was growing dark. I got down on my hands and knees and barreled my way through the sharp cartilage, but it resisted, held me back. My toes and fingers ached with cold. I was terrified I’d be stuck there all night.

I got down on my belly and crawled. Brambles grabbed my hair, thorns scratched my face. I clawed my fingers into the dirt and crawled inch by inch, knowing the road was somewhere above me.

I heard the distant sound of tires crunching over gravel. I clawed my way towards it, the sting of branches raking my scalp, thorns tearing my sweater. The beam of headlights flickered through the dense brush. The car passed and complete darkness fell, but I knew I was close. I just had to keep pushing.

With one last effort I was free. I stumbled to my feet, relief flooding me as Venus gleamed in the dark evening sky.

Life is like that, a series of misperceptions and wrong turns in the woods. I was once homeless, feeling abandoned and lonely, lost in the brambles and thickets I had crawled my way into, but I never gave up, never completely abandoned myself. If you find yourself in similar woods, hang on. Lean on Spirit and your own fortitude. Look for beacons. You will find your way.

It is not impossible to love yourself. It may feel like a daunting task, but know this – you are already loved, already cherished. Isn’t that a joy worth discovering? Isn’t that a joy worth fighting for, enduring for? Yes! Yes, it is! I tell you – don’t give up on yourself. Never, never give up.

The Shining Self

To be united with the Lord of Love,

Imperishable, changeless, beyond cause

And effect, is to find infinite joy.

            The Tejobindu Upanishad