I have to admit that the current enclosure in the corn field is becoming slightly oppressive. The stems tower at the impressive height of almost 3 meters. They are topped with a yellow tassel, the male flower, quivering in the wind while two corn cobs produced from the female flower are slowly ripening lower down.  The corn is domineering the views from the kitchen table and it is this omnipresence of a slow maturation, at the cost of an open landscape, that is disturbing me. I can’t wait for the harvest to release me from these prison windows. Patience is needed, because corn is a late harvest.

When the feeling of oppressiveness assails me, I run upstairs to gaze over the sea of corn tassels gently dancing in the late summer breezes. Each morning, I watch the red roof of the school bus slide through the opening provided by the road which is no longer visible. There is something magical in watching the sheet of scarlet metal gracefully pierce the green to reveal the presence of a passageway. Where to? The destination matters not, it is knowing that it is possible to move in what seems to be temporarily caught in immobility. I recently heard that all maturing human beings need to gaze out on wide horizons to get a sense of what is calling them onwards. It is from the heights of the first floor that I elevate myself and find the openness of mind, heart and will that is guiding me through this new experience. And to my great surprise, there are also small miracles to be found in the abundant generosity of a massive corn field.

A few days ago, I walked into the kitchen to discover a fearless young buck drinking from the bird bath. We are experiencing another patch of hot weather and drought. I was glad that the solitary buck with his tiny antlers had discovered a source of water and felt at peace in the shelter of the garden, as long as he doesn’t create havoc in the flowerbeds. Deer are known to be partial to garden flowers and have to be kept out of cemeteries which they unashamedly pilfer. The following day, at the same time, he came back and after a drink went to nibble the flowers of the weeds along the corn field. His preference is for the tall yellow flowers and the leaves of the brambles. His voracious appetite will save me having to trim the edges of the property. In that moment, I saw the pattern of reciprocal exchange that has sprung from the enclosure. Life reorganises itself to benefit from the new circumstances; rest and nourishment can be found even where oppression and domination might be felt.

How does all this fit into the odyssey with wholeness? It is a perfect illustration of where we have arrived on the voyage, as we crest the final wave: showing up. Reciprocal exchange between realms and spiralling towards the epicentre of the great mystery of life are core to the last stretch of expanding in wholeness before we dissolve into oneness. After a smooth and steady walk along the first pathways, suddenly things have been stirred up, in unexpected ways, and we have been pulled out of the devotional practices and disciplines that brought us so far. The flight plan is clearly changing. For instance, in August, I wanted to offer two walks down the pathway of integration, as previously. Circumstances turned this around and showed me how to use disorder in favour of a reordering. So, on the first Sunday we started with a short introductory walk down the pathway of integration before doing the long hike the following Sunday.

Lesson learnt! Let’s follow the red roof of the school bus gliding through the dense foliage and see where it takes us. There will be two gatherings for the final section of the odyssey guiding us down the pathway of contemplation. We begin with a leisurely stroll to feel into the new landscape rolling at our feet before diving into the curls and spirals chuckling from the imaginal realm inviting our heart to sing its song of love.