Tuesday, October 1, 2019

Personal Narrative- The Path Towards Grace, Love and Peace :: Personal Narrative Writing

Personal Narrative- The Path Towards Grace, Love and Peace When I was 16 I left my parents home. One month before I left, I wrote this in my journal: â€Å"What is the fluttering in my belly, rising up through my chest? An apprehension — a fear — excitement? I am anticipating a change — a falling down — a caving in of something I expect to be solid. I’m in a strange place, moving slowly forward with nothing that can be measured — an internal advancement, a shedding away of old selves. I am pared down.† The story of my leaving still feels like something written in code — a code no one could understand on the rational mind level. It was my soul’s decision and no amount of explaining or writing has helped enlighten those who did not understand it. I barely understood it myself. To those who did understand, I had to say very little. They knew within the first two minutes of my telling. They were inevitably people who, at some point in their lives, tried to bury their own soul’s yearnings, who had decided to live a perfectly fine and reasonable life, until the day they could not. That day of â€Å"soul excavation† remains crystal clear in their minds. As do all the nudges and urgings from the universe that led them there. Once I left, I looked back and saw this path towards that day so clearly — to me it made perfect sense. So much so that when friends asked me later, â€Å"How could you leave such a life — not having to work, good parents, nic e house?† I would answer, â€Å"How could I not?† And yet, I had never felt so humbled. With my leaving came the realization of how very little I had known my Self all those years. I did not leave gracefully. I did not expect my soul to be such an urgent and powerful force. Nor did I plan to leave when I did — but once I did, I felt supported and encouraged by something I could not name. The path ahead kept lighting up as if with neon. Go there. Do this. Fear accompanied me and frustration, guilt and desperate prayers, but no longer did I feel that deep sadness I could not name, which Sarah Ban Breathnagh, in her book Simple Abundance, says is â€Å"you missing your authentic self.† I feel lucky now that as a child I took on little of our culture’s burden around success.

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