I had a dream where I met a man with a beard so long that it touched the heart of his chest. It was grizzled and gray; with hairs like the frayed wires of a Brillo pad but shaped a face that was soft and inviting.
I asked this man what advice he had to help me and my people now. Wordlessly, he grabbed a leather satchel from a nearby table and cast its contents upon a dirt floor, sending a dozen or more small animal bones sprawling across it.
"This is the problem of your people," he said, pointing to the chaos of their layout. "The world is conflict and your bones are scattered. Outward conflict will always happen in your life until the inward conflict is quieted."
He reached for a long staff propped up against the wooden stool on which he sat and used its tip separate the vertebrae from the rest. Placing one above the other, he recreated the appearance of a spine.
"How are you standing?" he asked me, "and what are you standing for? Your spine is a physical reflection of your soul. Each vertebra represents a core principal in your being, a memory of absolute truth you have gathered from every life you have ever lived.
"If you were to look at your spine, really look at it with a clear mind, what pieces would be cracked or broken? Are the discs in which support them healthy, or are they empty and eroded?
"Are some of your vertebrae out of alignment with others? Are they even yours?
Are you supporting your own self and souls path, or have just decided that anothers' will and way is better? If you question that, imagine what were to happen if that person decided to take that support away? How would you be able to stand?" He picked up the empty leather satchel and placed it in my hands, and looked me square in the eye with the tip of his beard scratching the tops of my knees.
"Be aware of the entrapment that comes with counting on nothing other than the days as they pass by you," he warned, "lest you move through your most precious gift of life as nothing more than an empty bag of bones."
'bag of bones' / Jamie Homeister