Because my overtly metaphysical past predates social media, many of you know nothing about it (unless you’ve read my Acts of Surrender memoir and/or The Book of Messages, of course(!). So I guess this is (yet) another coming out for me. It’s not that I was hiding it. It just wasn’t directly relevant to my work in the world. Now, apparently, it is!

“Even as I’m back where I started 179 days ago, I don’t sense that I’m here to stay. At the same time, it feels as though there was a moment during these past nineteen Sedona days when I arrived at the end of this Yellow Brick Road. I’m not sure I can identify the moment, at least not yet. Perhaps it will be unmistakably clear in retrospect. Or perhaps there wasn’t a single moment. Maybe it has been more of a passageway than a portal…”

The problem with suspending public posts about my Yellow Brick Road journey, which I did back on June 21 (Day 144), is that it’s hard to know what to say to fill in the gap, other than that I’m still here and still traveling. 

I had no choice: I would have to trust. Unconditionally. And I would have to reassure those fearful parts of me that I have always been taken care of. Even during those three harrowing months between Portland and Sedona, a 2019 journey I chronicle in Pilgrimage: A Fool’s Journey, I was never abandoned. There was always a miracle…then another…then another. I didn’t run out then. Why would I now?

Not for the first time, I'm finding it hard to dig beneath the surface impossibility of my current situation to get to the truth, which is that the intuitive vision of my wisest self has never let me down, even when disaster felt imminent. Why am I telling you this now? Because I need to hear it.