I don’t know where the bridge is, but this is the question I most need to explore right now.

My life is full of hard. And a lot of exciting/terrifying moving forward HUGELY & PAINFULLY. And feeling lots of stuckness come up.

And three nights ago I dreamed I drowned. I could see the sky through the clear, deep water. But I was at the bottom.

I need to see if I can find the bridge.

Thanks for the question.

Mel

Some of the blocks are made of logistical things. Like having a header image and a favicon and Wendy’s WordPress Swimming Lessons.

And some of the blocks are me-things, like getting enough sleep and eating the right things and moving as much as I need to.

And some of them are knowing things, like how I know the ways that disconnection makes me feel pointlessly unhappy, even when nothing is obviously wrong.

I’m worried that people will figure out that I am not qualified to build this bridge. Like, maybe when it falls down. So I want to tell them that I don’t know jack about building bridges and then I won’t be in trouble when it falls.

Maybe it should be a secret bridge. Maybe it should be a little wooden bridge that I could totally build, and not some massive stone bridge. Or it should stop going over such a big choppy thing and start being over a stream, where I could definitely stand on the bottom if I fell in. Possibly I could use some islands to help me.

(Thank you!)

About my bridge:

Where is it?

It feels small…just like some 2×4′s that have been plopped down over a small little mud puddle right in front of me.

Like I were making a path to a tree house in my muddy backyard after a rain storm.

It’s just about getting to the next little patch of dry space so maybe I can move the board again and use it to create a bridge to the next space that I will stand on.

Very present moment type of bridge. No clue where it’s going right now. One foot in front of the other bridge.

I like the bridge. It’s sturdy. It’s manageable. It’s supports me. I have a good vantage point each time I’m standing on it – even though it’s flat. It helps that I’m tall. And that I stretch out my arms to the sky like I’m a starfish and soak up sunlight at each part of the bridge walking.

I trust it will be more obvious to me where we are taking this little bridge of moving 2×4′s and for now it’s just going to take me to making some fresh juice. Walk my scooby roommate and stand like a starfish in the sun to get some air and sun on my face.

My bridge is between sickness & health. And I notice that it’s only moving forward. It’s a very good bridge. A giving bridge. Like the Giving Tree. It chooses to give me anything I could need so that I can be supported and happy. And we love each other. When I’m tired, it lets me sit on it. When I’m bouncy it lets me bounce on it.
.-= Mona´s last post … Loving The Mess Ups =-.

I think a lot about how I’m on the very edge of america, right on the ocean. I can feel myself there, I picture an elementary school map of america and pinpoint myself – that’s me, on the left side, I finally made it all the way.

Los Angeles is not the bridge, but the destination which of course is also the starting point.
.-= Laura´s last post … Being Useless, Switching to a New System, and Meet my Cat =-.

The bridge begins at my mind. Everything that pours out (and goes in, for that matter) my mind is in direct contact with the bridge. The bridge is forked, however. My mind is the handle and the infinite possibilities are the prongs – innumerable. I am both the source and receiver of this forked bridge. And yes, the fork is feasting.

There is an unhappiness with how I live in a very very small and careful box. I know there is a free open field way of being and living in there or out there somewhere, but something about getting There feels missing in the equation of me.

The bridge is how I could get to the open field.

Wanted: Get out of the house movement that gets my heart rate up. A walk-the-dogs-a-la-Cesar-Milan kind of movement.

The bridge has to do with this: “Run, Heidi, run! In some way run. Every day. Maybe not a literally running kind of run. But yes a literally get your heart-rate up, run. Run for at least 30 minutes. I don’t care where or how you do it, but run. Pump your heart, hard every day. Jump, dance, run, fast. Every day. That’s your pill. Take it! If you don’t, you’ll feel like crap. If you do, there’s a chance of getting There.”

The bridge is everywhere. And it is nowhere. The bridge is a filament of meaning across the space of my becoming. It exists in my mind as a somewhat shaky structure of words, each fully formed . . each looking for its mate. And it exists outside my mind in the spaces between the spaces.

It stands silently watching, yet constantly calling out to me. “Step onto the bridge. Unless you challenge yourself, you will never be safe. Step onto the bridge, and know what it is to feel life coursing through you. Step onto the bridge, and know you are already on the other side.”

Where is the bridge? The bridge is and has always been with me, for I am the bridge.
.-= Gail McConnon´s last post … What Might Happen If You Stepped Away from NO? =-.