In the end what stays with you is knowledge and who you are (being) including how you are able handle stress/fear/depression/mourning/"negative emotions" and how flexible you are able to react to different new situations (including horrible ones) and adapt to them. This you just will not know beforehand; you will only know when you are there IMO.
Yes, there are a great number of shocks many of us are likely to experience going forward as we do our best to "enjoy the show". How we metabolize those shocks, what we do in response to them, what we can possibly learn from them, how we might become stronger individuals (and stronger as a community) as a result of them - would all seem to be reliant upon our inner and outer resources and the perspectives we take in how we view those shocks. We'll very likely have a host of new experiences to look forward to, varying in intensity.
We've been advised to see things as an adventure when things go wrong. And I can imagine many of us thinking, "Shit! I don't want adventure! I just wanna relax in my hobbit den and smoke my pipe in peace!". Laura has certainly intimated similar sentiments herself early on, so we can certainly take inspiration from her own incredible level of growth over the years, and by extension, the level of this community's growth. But growth does imply a willingness to get out of our relative comfort zones, and the more we can make peace with that - doing what IT doesn't like, being comfortable with being uncomfortable, etc. - the better off we're likely to be of course.
Speaking of adventure, the following passages come from Mouravieff's
Gnosis I. Though they're presented as allegories for esoteric self development, I think that they could also serve as a reminder for the importance of pressing on in the face of external danger and what that may feel and seem like at some times:
In the pictorial language of the Tradition, the void of which we spoke at the beginning of this chapter is given the name either of moat or threshold. Further on, we shall use the last name rather more, but here we shall use the first in relation to a symbolic fragment. Esoteric teaching has always presented its disciples with symbols; either diagrams or literary fragments in symbolic form. These fragments must be learnt by heart, then represented by an appropriate figure. The exercise is also practised starting from the diagram, in which case a literary fragment must be written.
Here is one of these fragments:
Lost in a forest full of wild beasts, moved by confused but deep feelings, a bewildered man searches for the way. Exhausted after running the gauntlet of a thousand dangers, he emerges at the edge.
Spread out before him is a view which fills him with admiration mixed with fear: a great castle of primitive beauty is on the other side of a large moat filled with clear and living water. Behind the castle a happy valley opens out, lit by the last rays of the sun. To the left, a dark reddish horizon warns of a coming storm.
Marvelling, and seized by a passionate desire to reach the castle, he forgets the dangers and fatigue to which he has been exposed.
— 'How do I get there?' He asks himself.
Suddenly he hears a Voice speaking to him from his inmost heart.
'The moat', it says, 'can only be crossed by swimming... the current is strong and the water icy.'
In spite of this, the man feels a surge of new strength mounting within him. Committed, he throws himself into the moat. The cold paralyses his breathing, but by an extreme effort of will he reaches the other side in a few strokes and jumps onto the first step of the stairs, where he gets a foothold. Three more immense granite steps tower above him. They lead to a large stage in the form of a semicircle, defended by two towers. Two closed doors give access to them.
A roaring sound comes to his ears. The man turns. At the place where he stood only instants before, a pack of wolves paw at the ground.
The day is coming to an end. In the dusk he can still distinguish the blazing eyes of the hungry beasts.
Again he hears the Voice telling him:
— 'All in all, the risk was not that great. If you had refused, you would have been torn to shreds by the wolves.'
Terrified by his escape from that danger, the man estimates the difficulties that will accompany his climb.
He had hardly started to climb the second step when a deluge of rain falls, making the stones slippery and obstructing his movement — yet he ends by getting a foot- hold. The storm passes and the rain diminishes. His face and clothes drip heavily onto the stone.
— 'Little does it matter,' says the Voice, 'you had already got wet crossing the moat'
The man regains his breath again and starts climbing. Night falls, and the crescent of the new moon appears pale and golden on his right, towards the setting sun.
— 'A good sign,' he hears within himself.
The man smiles. Now he clings to a tiny ledge, reaching for the third step. He reaches it, hands and legs stained with blood. No sooner had he stood up than a gust of glacial wind almost throws him off again. Clinging to the ground, he climbs up to the wall forming the fourth step, and finds shelter there.
— 'That is not all,' says the Voice. Do not waste time taking shelter. The step can split, and then the earth will swallow you up.'
His resistance to the storm, instead of exhausting him, redoubles his strength. Now he climbs the fourth step with little difficulty, although it is as high as the preceding ones.
Standing, he hears an alarm trumpet like thunder. Suddenly, a scorching wind strikes him in the face. He lifts his eyes. In the obscurity of the night, a shining figure stands to attention before him: It is the Guardian, clad in armour and shining helmet, arms outstretched, a blazing sword in his hand and pointed towards the man.
— 'Who are you, pilgrim?' he asks. 'To what end and in whose name have you passed these obstacles and climbed the steps of paradise?'
Overcome by a surge of ineffable joy, the man repeats in a loud voice the words he has just heard in the depth of his heart. He feels as if they are now his, and answers the Guardian with courage.
— I am the Soul in search of divine happiness; a particle aspiring to unite with the Creative Principle I'
— 'Your answer is correct', replies the Guardian.
The door to the tower on the right opens. The sword returns to its sheath. The Guardian takes the man by the hand and leads him across the threshold of the open door...
Dawn gilds the eastern sky. Precursor of the Sun, the morning Star shines above the happy Valley.
Here is another of these fragments, taken from classical literature: a passage from Turgenev.13
I see a great building, one enormous mass. In the front wall is a narrow arch with open doors; behind them, dark mists. In front of the high threshold there is a young girl... a pretty Russian girl.
A breeze comes from the dark and icy mists, a current of freezing air, bringing with it from the depths of the building the sound of a slow and muffled voice.
— 'You who aspire to cross this threshold, do you know what awaits you here?' — I know,' answers the young girl.
— 'Cold, hunger, hate, mockery, scorn, injustice, prison, illness and even death?' — I know it.'
— 'Do you expect to be shunned by everyone? Do you expect to be totally alone?' — 'I am ready. I know it. I shall bear all the suffering and all the blows'.
— 'Even if they do not come from enemies, but from parents, from friends?' — 'Yes... even from those...'
— 'Good. Do you accept the sacrifice?' — 'Yes'.
— 'An anonymous sacrifice? You will perish and nobody... but nobody will even know whose memory to honour?'
— 'I have no use for recognition and pity. I have no use for a name.'
— 'Are you ready for crime?' The young girl bowed her head.
— 'Even for crime.'
The voice which was questioning her did not continue right away. At last it started again:
— 'Do you know that one day you will believe no more in what you believe in now, and come to think that you have been a dupe and that it was for nothing that you have lost your young life?'
— 'That too I know. Well though I know it, I wish to enter.' The young girl crossed the threshold. A heavy curtain fell. Gritting his teeth, someone uttered behind her:
— 'A foolish girl!'
At which, from another place, a voice replied:
— 'A saint!'
cassiopaea.org
