It’s A Long Way To The Light…
11 Jul 2023

It’s a long way to the light…

Ignorance is easy, but knowledge takes time – to discover, to learn, to entrench. It is found only after leaving the comfort zone, making the effort, taking the time – if at all – there are no guarantees of success, only the prospect that wisdom exists, is out there, and can be found. The journey itself might be a consolation prize at the end of the day. But gnosis’ glow and warmth is precious. Oh, it’s a long way to the light.

It’s a long way to the light…

To find the day after a long, long night. To heal the heart enough so that the past can be put down and left in its proper place, to heal from the scars and not to pick at the wounds. To find a gentleness in the self, for the self. To move on from the injuries and to let the slights bounce easy. To mend the soul of the many chips and impacts that the careless and the cruel inflicted on it. But to be able to bask in the freedom of wholeness, exposed but upright. Oh, it is a long way to the light.

It’s a long way to the light…

To get to the other side of the struggle, to step into the victory and get to the win. To finish the build and complete the task and to bring forth what is hidden within, or to give substance to what is but mere potential. To do the work, painstakingly craft something of beauty, to chisel what is valuable or beautiful or worthwhile from raw stone. Oh, oh, oh… it is such a long way to the light.

It’s a long way to the light…

To find the smile behind the frown, or the fear or pain. To get strong enough and fit enough to be able to just be, and to see the humour, and to delight in laughs. To be able to laugh – at the self, and the world, and yes, at others even. Every character in a comedy think they live in a tragedy, and as long as breath is drawn there is humour, because the great architect built it that way. But it isn’t easy to find that, the willingness or the power. No, no, no indeed – it is a long, long way to the light.

It’s a long way to the light.

Born into the bosom of Samsara. A fragile mess of flesh and bone, born into this world alone. Only to have to overcome, to break bones, to build layer upon layer of scar tissue. To fall. To be kinked and maimed along the way, to bump into sharp corners and hard edges – to arrive at fully grown with defects and regrets. And then to feel the grown self wither away, sometimes in small bits and sometimes in steep falls. Only to arrive past the prime. Only to decay, and reverse, and go backwards. And to waste away over time or be cut short in an instant – but to be assured of the inevitability that this life is not for surviving. It is finite, it is but a whisper, it goes… is it all just matter and material (can you believe that?) or is it all a preamble – for a rock falling in a pond, whose circular little waves will reverberate through the other side of the veil? I find it hard to be assured this is all there is… I find it impossible to think that all is just a blitzlieb of pointless imperfections. I choose, I have to choose, I can’t but choose, to believe and to feel and to hope that there is light beyond (though what it is I couldn’t tell you, and wouldn’t dare to sell you). But between birth and the death, the road is harsh and uncaring, often, if punctuated by sweetness and moments of awe. But it is no easy walk, no… it is a long, God hears me a long, long, long way to the light.

It is a long way to the light.

But it is worth it.

– Pendennis Castle, July 2023