In the whirlwind of things that seem to be, a man can get lost in happenstance. He can look at his condition and let the winds of his mind blow without control, often decimating things he’s built with care in his life. He often looks at what is going on around him and asks “why?” without ever really knowing the answer. The question may often be rhetorical but the answer is always there, ready to be explored.
It’s easy to get lost in the wilderness of mind when you’ve either forgotten, or failed to obtain, your heart’s compass. It’s an easy thing to get lost to the fear or ambivalence that life has gifted us. It’s even easier to ignore the compass we’ve been blessed with, since we often cede our power to someone or something else in our journey without realizing that they can only guide us with a compass uniquely theirs. We leave ourselves to the mercy of our minds often devoid of a compass that points true North, and to the sextants of others who can only point to their charted path. We then take their instrument as our own.
To the demons of fear I always ask, “Where would I be without you?” They laugh and come up with some nonsensical answer that may make sense to some gurus, but not to my heart. I value my journey, even the times when I’ve become helplessly lost, but I also understand that I would value my journey even if I had made it with a lot less fear. After all, if things are as they were meant to be wouldn’t they be the same even if I had been navigated more by my heart compass and less by demons who only serve their own purpose? Would I not have gotten to the mountains and to the sea anyway but with a lot less baggage and quite a few less scars? Maybe. It’s best not to add that question to the whirlwind of things that seem to be since I can already feel overburdened by the weight of that satchel.
To the angels of love I’ve asked, “Where were you in my times of need?” Flashbacks of affirmations I once left strewn about my space come to me in that instance. Pictures and words and sticky notes blowing about in the room as I went about my day not living a single one of them. It seemed an agreement I had with life was to collect the affirmations and ideas of others but never actually use them. I was too busy listening to demons of fear and playing in their domain to actually try. I would collect things like “Follow your heart” and “life is best lived outside your comfort zone” while never actually following my heart nor stepping foot outside my comfortable box. Rumi would instruct me to “be notorious” but all I could do is worry about my reputation. It seemed then, though I know better now, that the demons were simply overpowering the angels. Demons can sing and laugh so loudly that little else can be heard, and the echoes of their song can stretch for an eternity if you allow it.
That was not, however, meant to be my story. My story was meant to be one of a hand rising above the ashes, of a man climbing out of a pit to dust himself off and head toward the sunset. It was to be a story of resilience, of hope, and of love. A man who once listened to demons and thought the angels had forsaken him now stands tall in the light of love, and I only look back to remind myself of what an incredible journey it has been. Through the valleys to the mountains I’ve walked, crawled and ran sometimes without any direction and sometimes in the folly of those pointing the way. One day I would find my compass and I would follow a path I had chosen.
That is not to say fear has not been present. Fear is always present. In fact, I can find very few moments of note in my life where fear was not there doing its best to influence the outcome. Fear is a horrible compass though. It often spins frantically with no rhyme or reason, and one can get desperately lost trying to make sense of its way points. So much attention must be paid to the spinning dial that we miss so much around us, including those things we trip on and those walls we run into. In my story, I’ve discovered my heart and that has proven to be a reliable, stable and complete compass. Even in those times when fear is shouting in the caverns of my mind, I’ve learned to pause and look at my heart’s compass. So far, it has always pointed me in the right direction. Where fear has often gotten me lost, I’ve discovered a true path in love. Best of all, I never lose sight of the things around me in love. Love simply does not demand that type of attention. It does get my attention, but rarely in a way that doesn’t highlight the beauty of everything around me.
Perhaps that is one of the major differences between fear and love? Perhaps it is the level of attention we must devote to the former while the latter is busy highlighting what we really should focus on? It would seem to make sense in my experience. The demons demanded so much attention that I could not hear the angels. The angels who seemed to have forsaken me in their silence could have been just less demanding of my attention. Perhaps they knew I would eventually find them. It just could be that they just accepted the fact I hadn’t, and may never introduce myself.
There must be a reason the main word in compassion is compass. I’d suggest that it is there because when love is our guiding instrument we not only offer compassion to the demons and to others, but to ourselves. My angels offered my demons compassion until the moment when I could find them in the midst of my suffering. At the moment when I traded in one set of guides for another, when I began to focus on the love within me rather than the fear instilled in me, everything changed. I found my truth North. I hope we all get that chance.
