Deep thinking helps me arrive at the place where I accept the simple truth. I start down the path and begin the process. My eyebrows scrunch more and more as I go deeper. I’m at the bottom of my mind-cave walking around in circles, lifting my torch to the rocks, in search of the writing on the walls. There’s something legendary in these caves, I can feel it. It’s not a treasure hidden in a cove deep inside. No, it’s much more valuable than precious metals and dazzling gemstones. It hangs in the very air. Breathing it in, intoxicates my spirit and gives me life. Following the scent of ancient truth, the trail leads back to the surface. To the Source. Ascending the stairs, I make my way back up, lead by the realization that the truth I heard is real. Wiping the smudge of grime from my search off my face, God is proud of my efforts, “You found your way out, you followed the only Way out.”

You see I didn’t find the truth down in the caves, but I had to go down there to obtain the realization that the truth is real for myself. When I resurfaced, nothing had changed. I didn’t discover anything, just grasped what was already there. I’m back where I started, but things are not the same. It’s what it means to work out your faith, the way out is from the inside. The Kingdom we belong to is most assuredly inside out and upside down.

– Stoian Hitrov

Why then, did I have to plunge beneath the earth to catch a whiff of the scent? Because when I stood atop my hill looking for the truth that I couldn’t see with my eyes, the winds of distraction blew away all traces of its fragrance. To track it again, the only hope I had was going to a place where the winds can’t reach. The cave became a temple, a place to refocus my recognition. Breathe deep and fight the breeze, as the plague is deceptive. The caress of distraction feels good sweeping across the skin, but all the while, siphons the life from your veins with masterful sleight of hand.

Most people choose not to face the wind and turn, so it is at their back, steadily nudging them down a path that’s an offshoot of the correct tunnel. They over think the journey, instead of sticking to the plan. They forget what they are seeking and become lost in a series of twisting caverns. The paths always seem to double back to hopelessness. They’ve listened to the wind so long, it whistled down their ear canal and entered their mind. A whirlwind of thoughts now infects them with motion sickness. Disoriented and nauseous, the result is a vomiting of misery. The cave floor is slick with it.

Over thinking their downfall, the lost in thought concede to make their homes in the caves. Thinking harder will not help them figure out what they cannot define. The swirl of busy thoughts block out the soft whisper of the Way ever-hanging in the air. Covering their ears they torment themselves with an overload of possible solutions. They force themselves to grow large, hollow eyes, hoping to see what their minds tell them is there. With pupils so dilated and black, it would appear to a stranger that they had no eyes at all. Just holes in their face, staring, searching the darkness, straining to catch sight of a glimmer of hope. Pointed, scaly ears form on their heads to adapt to the perceived silence, desperate for a sound that might carry an answer. But all that’s heard now are echoes of what used to be. Is there still a world beyond these caves?

– Nicebleed

The tunnel folk are educated by the blackness. Their teachers are the ever nagging drips of water, ceaselessly falling into puddles. Today’s lesson is the same as yesterday – think of your own way out of this madness. Where as, the deep thinking explorer uncovers the truth and knows his only hope is to come back up for air. His answer is topside, not in his head. The lead astray over thinkers, never sleep and are well accustomed to the dark by now. And because it’s all their memory holds, they only know to dig deeper. Thinking and thinking, their minds never rest. With hunched backs and crooked limbs, they scuffle about the place, pausing only to huddle around small, dim fires, trying to warm their moist skin. If one would look into a pool of stagnant water, he would not recognize the creature peering back.

Unbeknownst to him, he was closer to the truth before he made the trek into this clouded mind of his. Occasionally, there is a moment of clarity and, realizing what has happened, he begins to feel sorry for himself. He loses hope. That’s what over thinking does to us – it creates self-pity. And that is a dangerous game to play.

Living inside your head, your house will be made of shadows and you will linger on the edge, scared and hesitant of ever making a decision that could help you. Paralyzed by over thinking, some never resurface, refusing to cast off the scales from their eyes. These dreadful people make their mind their grave, a skull thick as the rock entombing them. Believe me, I have a summer home there and periodically lock myself in for a season. I lost myself in those very same depths. But I know my residence is held elsewhere. And upon my emergence, I learn it was necessary. I had to lose myself in order to expose myself as the radiant one I already was. It is crucial for you to descend, thinking deeply, and learn for yourself the truth. Experiencing your own emergence, liberation will be sweet and you will know the free air.

Life isn’t lived by torchlight, navigating a dark labyrinth of tunnels.

Life is lived above ground, striding along in the brilliant light we found.