THE VANISHING POINT
The spiritual path moves outward toward the horizon, narrowing into nothingness upon the vanishing point. As I walk, I find the landscape darkens to the right, brightens to the left, and the road itself narrows - not just toward the horizon but underfoot as well. As I approach, the landscape falls away and the road itself narrows until all that's left is the idea of a road, a razor's edge. To the left is infinity and to the right oblivion.
When the secrets hidden deep in the soul have been uncovered, the blind spots revealed, and the coping mechanisms and their comfortable delusions exposed, my soul stands naked - exposed before the universe, its maker, and all who've gone on before - and must choose which direction to fall.
Appealing though the light may be, it is not as simple a choice as it sounds, because both the dark and the light are each a part of me and potentially a full expression of me. I see myself in both and hold within my mind all the hope and glory and fear and shame that define me - one part transcendent, one part wretched - when it's time to become who I'm born to be.
I cannot say what happens next, for I have only seen this place from afar, but in that pivotal moment faith consummates itself. Belief intersects with and forevermore becomes reality. I am not there yet, but it's closer now. In the fullness of time, when I stand on the razor's edge, the wind blowing softly this way or that, it still comes down to faith. At the moment of truth, I must close my eyes, listen to the wind, and believe that God will teach me how to fall.