The jungle is far louder than the city though it's not as noticeable. Sounds that put you to sleep, sounds that wake you up, sounds that belong. The crickets, the roosters, the frogs, the bees, the wild dogs, the geckos that live in the walls, the mice that run across the roof. I rarely hear human voices though I have a number of close neighbors. Thunderstorms sweep through and the monsoon brings rain that lasts for days and days and days.
I've nothing to do most days except learn to listen to my inner world until it is louder than the outer world. And from this space is where intuition strengthens and the heart knows better than the mind. Moldavite dreams and timeless memories, jungle greens and crystal blues, boundless and ever present.
My birth chart is so full of water I've spent a good chunk of my life nearly drowning. I never did learn to swim, but to simply move in sync with my soul, to feel my way through indecision and tough questions instead of attempting to think my way through them. This is where lightness resides, a lightness that allows me to float and see with a new kind of clarity.
Perhaps I've become an antevasin, one who lives at the border between village and forest--not quite a conventional householder, not quite a hermit. Or in my case, living with one foot in the modern world, the other at the edge of the jungle, ever moving toward the unknown, the mysterious, never letting it out of my sight. Or in the words of Liz Gilbert, "...this is a border that is always moving...the mysterious forest of the unknown always stays a few feet ahead of you, so you have to travel light in order to keep following it."
Perhaps I've always been an antevasian, never quite getting a grip on how to live in the world, yet never quite letting my head to go so far under I drown, my eyes always on the horizon of the new, the unknown, the mysterious. And the deeper I sink into this existence the more it feels like the true path of my soul, the more it feels like home.
Are you living the path your soul came here to live? If not, what would it take for you to align with it?
I've nothing to do most days except learn to listen to my inner world until it is louder than the outer world. And from this space is where intuition strengthens and the heart knows better than the mind. Moldavite dreams and timeless memories, jungle greens and crystal blues, boundless and ever present.
My birth chart is so full of water I've spent a good chunk of my life nearly drowning. I never did learn to swim, but to simply move in sync with my soul, to feel my way through indecision and tough questions instead of attempting to think my way through them. This is where lightness resides, a lightness that allows me to float and see with a new kind of clarity.
Perhaps I've become an antevasin, one who lives at the border between village and forest--not quite a conventional householder, not quite a hermit. Or in my case, living with one foot in the modern world, the other at the edge of the jungle, ever moving toward the unknown, the mysterious, never letting it out of my sight. Or in the words of Liz Gilbert, "...this is a border that is always moving...the mysterious forest of the unknown always stays a few feet ahead of you, so you have to travel light in order to keep following it."
Perhaps I've always been an antevasian, never quite getting a grip on how to live in the world, yet never quite letting my head to go so far under I drown, my eyes always on the horizon of the new, the unknown, the mysterious. And the deeper I sink into this existence the more it feels like the true path of my soul, the more it feels like home.
Are you living the path your soul came here to live? If not, what would it take for you to align with it?
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