Weaving in the Dark

I love the moon and the stars, but I am afraid to be out alone in the dark. My natural tendency is to be on alert for potential dangers, but that���s hard to manage when I can���t see anything.

I love my gift of clarity���catching a glimpse of the potential of how things might unfold in the days or years ahead. Sight, both internal and external, is my most trusted sense. But the sight I���ve been using is hindered in dark.

I am walking in spiritual darkness. I don���t feel lost or abandoned as happens in the dark night of the soul but I can���t see anything I recognize. I have a strong sense of the divine presence and a luscious dose of gratitude, but I can���t see where I am going. Even the next step feels overwhelming.

I���m very busy. Traveling often. Some say that my to-do list is too long and wide, and that I���d see more clearly if I dropped some things in order to open up more spaciousness. That doesn���t ring true to me.

Here is what I see���an image. That is all I have now.

I am sitting on the ground in front of a vertical loom. I���m weaving a rug that is two-thirds of the way complete. I can���t see the pattern on the rug. I don���t know what colors or types of skeins are being used in the weaving.

Behind the rug, hidden from my view, Spirit is very active with an unseen ritual. While I don���t know what is happening on the other side of my weaving, I am nonetheless personally involved in the prayer dance.

One of the skeins of thread in the weaving comes from this unseen dance between Spirit and me.

I am to keep weaving, trusting that what is emerging won���t be an ugly, tangled mess.

My mind is very unsatisfied with this image and this process. And yet here I stay, adding one row and then another.