The Hallway

I discovered the Hallway last year.

Contrary to what some of you may believe, I wasn't high when I found it. I was sober, and I had no idea how to feel. People rarely do in early sobriety.

Emotionally, it felt as though one door had closed behind me because I couldn't go back to justifying using. Another was closed before me because I was waiting to see where things would land, and I had my hands on hips looking around, much like Sarah.

For those of you who have read the last few installments of Her Safe Space, it may appear at first glance that Sarah has broken free from the place of Waiting, but she hasn't, not for the last three installments, and I don't think she will have found her way out of the infinite Hallway by the end of the story, either.

Frankly I'm losing ground with the story as the priorities in my life shift from searching to preparing.

To give you a visual, when I get this way I go to a familiar place in my meditation room. Atop a familiar mount among a crest of rolling hills rich with bounty is an assortment of weapons laid out for my examination, namely longbows.

In having taken the role of someone's spiritual mentor, I need to make long term goals. I need to be able to look far enough into the future to plan around obstacles, and I need to use some of those obstacles to my advantage. Hence the longbows.

I once asked to be guided by the hawk and I was afforded a birdseye view of my life.

It was weird.

I also have daggers for close-range combat with problems which may arise on my student's spiritual path. I'll need divine inspiration, and the ability to think on my feet.

This type of symbolism keeps me spiritually satisfied, as it allows me to embrace my creative side. I guess you could say I'm in a hallway of sorts. I'm waiting to see where things will land before rushing into the task without having first gathered enough information for me to at least make a start. My mom tells me I seem distracted, preoccupied.

I am. It's weird here.

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