Do you believe in mystery? That there are tiny, almost imperceivable currents in your life that prevent you from being exposed to things before you're ready for them, and steer you toward them when the time is right?
Imagine that there is a book, or a movie, or a song that you have been dying to experience for ages, but for some reason or another never gotten around to. Years later, you're struggling with some philosophical dilemma, and you decide to pull it off the shelf to distract you from your quandary. And as it begins, you see every hidden detail of your mental chaos laid out in front of you in meaningful metaphors and pseudo-prophetic dialog.
Is there some invisible hand guiding your path? Shooing you away from metaphors that will not yet have meaning for you, and nudging you toward them when you are finally in need of the lessons they will bring? Or is the language of metaphors such that you will find meaning where you look for it, and would have found just as much meaning in another source, if your need was as great?
If there's one thing that I have learned in my service, it is fluency in metaphor. But being able to speak a language doesn't mean that one necessarily understands the physics of how sound is created and shaped into words, nor the esoteric inner workings of linguistic theory.
Nevertheless, I see the answers when I look for them. I have been asking a lot of questions over the past several months. But as my life seemed to be spiraling into chaos, I was too afraid to look for the answers to most of those questions. I wasn't sure I could handle them if they were as dark as I had feared.
Now that the worst of it is over and I am finally working on getting back on my feet, I have begun to indulge myself in looking for a few of the answers. And, as usual, the answers come in metaphor. They're in magazine articles, on DVDs, in music, in reflections, and even in unexpected software releases. I can see which way the wind is blowing, but can not yet tell if it is a breeze or a storm. If only I could quiet the fury inside, perhaps I could hear the messages more clearly.
What is the question you live your life by? What do you want? Who are you? Why are you here? Where are you going? Ask yourself these questions repeatedly, until all of your flippant surface responses are depleted and the truth begins to emerge. Which questions bring forth answers that make you feel whole? Which bring forth answers that make you fear yourself?
Which answers are you willing to die for? And, more importantly, which answers are you willing to live for?