The roar, the bend and the whimper of a landscape is unmistakably altered by its seasons just as we are lured and tumbled by time. This perpetually dense lead clock spares no one and etches its chimes in our memories so that we can divide its sprawling infinity into neat and orderly chapters. This can be heartbreaking if we are standing still, each chapter of our life nearly identical to the last, knowing that if change is pushing us to jump into some undefined adventure we just don’t have the guts to claim it.
If year after year we search for meaning in the next promotion or accomplishment, we must admit we are secretly waiting for a surprise opportunity to reach out and grab us, or worse, give us permission to be who we thought we’d be by now. Could it be that in the scrolling, clicks and chatter we silence a quiet little buzzing? This could be the alchemical spark that beats with the information we carry in our DNA; a tonic, a remedy from the hiding.
It is a brave decision to show up for our own adventure, to become a spark enlivened with spirit and gnosis, equipped with all the alchemical wisdom to transform our world. This wisdom appears to us as ingredients on our path imbued with the cosmos: stories, old friends and wise sages, lost artifacts rediscovered, and dusty old keys we find on the ground. Then we realize we were never alone, that the universe is more interesting than we thought. The cosmos speak back and the lead clock melts into a golden sun dial at the threshold of the adventure.
Image source: John William Waterhouse – Psyche Opening the Golden Box (1903)