A Lesson from the Spirit

I see ice, and a man stands on it, and under the ice there is a sun. It draws nearer, growing brighter and hotter. The man walks calmly on the ice; the snow crunches under his feet, but as the sun approaches the ice becomes slippery, it melts, and it becomes hard for the man to keep his balance so as not to fall.
“What is all this about, Spirit?”
“About the existing order of the world.”
When you are used to walking on frozen ice, it is difficult to find your balance on a thawing, slick sheet. You are shaken, you're thrown from side to side, you can lose your footing, fall, slow your step.
Walking toward the Light is not easy. To come to the Light means to know what darkness is like, what sorrow, anxieties, agitation, and worry are; it means to learn how to cope with any obstacles, to accept all the burdens and griefs that have been prepared for you once.
By accepting your past and taking it as it is—without embellishment, without shame, without secrecy or regret—you accept the light within you and must learn to walk differently.
Someone else who slips and falls will be frightened and veer off the intended path. The sun will recede, and it will be easier for him to walk, but where is he going? Into the fog, into the dark?
Learning to accept the light within you is like learning to walk on wet, slippery ice—it is hard.
But if you are ready for it and desire it with all your soul, it will seem simple and easy, swift and joyful.
So when you suddenly fall, do not grieve or complain, do not be afraid and do not run—accept. And you will see how you begin to skate across that ice with virtuosity, astonishingly beautiful, masterfully. As if the skates on your feet were made for this very tool you need right now, in this moment.
Many call the light into their lives, but few are ready to receive it. To accept that newness in your life that the Creator bestows.
It is like passing a trial, a certain initiation, a consecration into those mysteries of ancient knowledge that were once lost to you.
By accepting the changing reality, by choosing the light and the path prepared for you, you try on the role for which you were made; you learn, you observe, you create, you bring forth a new reality for your renewed self.

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As soon as that man stopped being afraid, the sun came out from under the ice, rose upward, the ice melted and a meadow formed, with beautiful green, lush grass; flowers began to open, birds flew in. I turn back, and where there had been ice, where there had seemed a vast depth of water, there are small meadows everywhere.
The sun hid under the ice like an illusion, like a kind of test, a trial that is important to pass in order to remove that illusion. To release that sun, which is kept at the bottom of the soul, outward—not only for oneself but for everyone.
It gives life to all, only when it shines high. While we keep this sun, this light, inside us, in the depth of the soul under a thickness of ice, it offers no help to us or to others. It does not work for one, but only for all. Light is one, as God is one.