Charon at the Gate

Crossing Into the Dead Lands

You arrive at the moment. The temptation is familiar. You have faced it before, and you have beaten it before. And so you arm yourself to defend.

It hurt you once. This temptation — this demon in your life. It took you to places you never imagined you would go. It made you into someone you hated. But when you stood up and said no, you opened a new way.

It made you better. It turned you into someone you liked. Someone you could live with. Someone others could love. It was hard. And I know that it cost you.

You have a sense of the life you left behind. Old ways and friends gone forever. That hurts the most. And it aches a wonder. Is there a way to reconnect? Can this chasm be crossed?

Friend, look upon me now. For I have watched you grow. And I see that you are no longer the man that fell. No. You have become so much more.

And as your friend, I think you are ready. Ready to put down your weapons. Ready to trust yourself. Ready to cross this chasm.

Standing at its gate is Charon. Ancient. Indifferent. Waiting.

To cross is to go below. To risk ourself to the life that once deadened us. To go down in to that which might kill us again. Many go and do not return. So why attempt such a crossing?

Having crossed and returned, I will tell you what I know. Healing is not here. Not in this ordered place. Not in this cultivated garden. No — it is there. In the wasteland we left behind.

Only by giving life to the death of the past may we heal it. Defense from temptation stands a bulwark — a chasm. It cleaves our heart and constrains our wholeness. We regain ourself when we inhabit every part of ourself. Even that which is dead. That is why we cross into the dead lands.

Is today the day of your crossing? Only you can say. You will know it by signs only visible to you. Signs which may silence explanation.

When you arrive, you will know the demon temptation. Watch then your sword hand. Its fist closes and protects from salvation. Its palm exposes and invites destruction. Find the space between. Take the time. Become more. Or cross into familiar darkness.

Carry with you the question — am I more than the man who left?

If the answer is no, know this: integration is immortal. It will outlive you. You can still live a good life sword in hand. You will still be loved. You will still be part of something.

But that something may never be part of you. That wholeness. That oneness. Some die for it. Others survive it. It is yours to choose. And it is this choosing I wish to provoke in you, friend.

I suspect you are ready. I have seen you move mountains and begin to believe in yourself. But you have yet to bestow your belief upon this hurt place. Your light upon these dead lands. Perhaps today is the day.