Perhaps you'll recognize yourself here.

When I look across that table at those who have shared it with me over these last few years, it seems we share a lot of common ground.

You have probably identified as a seeker for a long time — lifetimes? — though you don't always reveal the nature or depth of your seeking to others. You probably questioned the "usual" values of the world around you a long time ago, deciding that living gently, kindly, and with less impact were good for you and for those around you.

You've come a long way. You've done work — inwardly and outwardly. You probably consider yourself rather advanced. And that is reasonable.

You've valued healthy habits and practices for a long time, even if you don't always stick to them. You've probably meditated — some of you persistently. And read a lot of books. Maybe Tolle, Adyashanti, Jed McKenna, Nisargadatta, the Bhagavad Gita, Emerson, Rumi, Zen koans, A Course in Miracles, Seth, the Bible, and all manner of others.

You've been to classes and trainings, sat with teachers, occasionally had your mind blown. There have been powerful experiences along the way — some a bit hard to explain to certain people in your life. Words like "awareness" and "presence" and "energy" have been useful, though you've noticed they can be tricky depending on your audience. You know well how limited words can be, and how direct experience transcends them entirely.

Sometimes you get impatient with the journey. Hasn't it been long enough? Shouldn't I be further along by now? Shouldn't I have gotten over this — whatever it is — by now? Which is only natural, because you've come so far. You may even be getting tired of the seeking — one more class, one more book, one more teacher.

So much has been overcome, let go, forgiven and peacefully moved on from. And yet — somewhere in the canyons of mind, in hidden, shrouded parts of consciousness, a few things still beg some light. They are calling to you, persistently. You've cleared away so much that there is little left to shroud them, and they've become hard to ignore. You've built many skills over all this time, and yet you find yourself unsure how to navigate this next part — both pushed and pulled to do so. You know that where this leads is wonderful. And yet there remains something fearful about the shadows in these deepest canyons of self.

The lamp on the table draws you. This light emboldens that inner sense of being pushed, and strengthens the pull you feel. So you've come — perhaps this might be a beacon to light this late leg of the journey.