Our plane banked left over the Greek islands and began it’s decent from 25,000 feet. To our right, the Mediterranean Sea glistened, in all its turquoise splendour. To our left, lush green mountains, dotted with white stucco houses and red tiled roofs, reached to the sky, to welcome us. My soul rose up through my body, thrilled that we had found our way here… finally! After, as we wound our way through the mountains, along narrow, winding roads, past stone dwellings, herds of goats and old women bent low by the weight of the parcels carried on their heads, I let the tears fall… not for sorrow, but for joy. I had come home.
Spiritual Power, Deja-vu
Have you done that? Have you found yourself in a place you have never been before and felt, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you knew that place? It’s an experience beyond deja-vu. It is an abiding sense of familiarity that tells you, with calm assurance, you are strongly and inextricably connected. What is that? Past lives? Soul connection? I’m not sure.
This was Turkey, in the 1990s… friendly eyes, white smiles, innocent curiosity and open hearts, “Hey, white people! Come visit my bar!”. Upon returning, a mere two years later, the friendly eyes had grown wounded and suspicious. The smiles were becoming a business formality and I feared for the open hearts. European tourists were demanding, “Just get my effing drink!”, when the innocent and curious tried to engage in fun banter. What could I do?
Flash forward another 20 years and the soft brown eyes had grown hard, the winding roads had been blasted through the mountains and made into boring, straight highways. The rocky paths through the village had been widened and paved. The Turks learned fast and my heart ached. Still, I returned, a few more times. Still, there was something in the fabric of the land that touched my soul. But I cannot go there now. It’s not safe.
My experience was local. Their experience is global. I read the news and hang my head. What can I do? What can I do when innocence is crushed, when hopes are dashed, when open hearts and gentle souls are trampled on and threatened? In this lifetime, my home is Canada, O Canada! Living here, halfway around the world from Turkey, I have to recognize where my strength lies and then resort to drastic measures. I have to love, right where I am. Be kind, be tolerant, be generous and be courageous, right here in my own back yard. If I’m bitching in a gossip cluster, if I’m too important to acknowledge my waiter, too busy to stop and help somebody lift a heavy parcel, if I don’t have time for you because I’ve gotta get home and meditate… who am I kidding? I am as guilty as the rude tourists in Turkey and the corrupt politicians that abound this globe. My point? How we conduct our mundane, daily affairs has a huge impact on the rest of the world.
My soul resides in me…relies on me. My soul can soar anywhere, but uses my body for expression. Did I take my soul to Turkey or did it take me? There’s a WooWoo question for you! If I could hold the essence of Turkey in my arms and comfort it’s troubled heart I would do that. How do you do that? You put your arms around what you can and know that love knows no limits. Spiritual power is HUGE, IMMENSE, UNSTOPPABLE. I love knowing that the love I offer, right here in the Great White North, will find its way to where it is needed most. That, my friend, is an indisputable fact.
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