There is a mystical forest near my home. For years it has been sparkling and lush during the day but became foreboding and mist-strewn at night. In the last two years that has started to change, and an ominous dark blanket encompasses it for 24 hours. I still deeply desire to enter it and often come right to the narrow entrance provided by a break in the packed trees. The closer that I get then the more clear the ghostly voices start to pick up. "You're not worthy." "You can't come here." "We will crush and destroy you."
I built a shed to hold my dreams and protect my hopes. It was two years ago that it was shattered and scattered across my backyard. The voices claim victory and take responsibility. I want to repair it, but feel it is futile until I enter that forest. Yet the voices that have always followed me for as long as I can remember are picking up now. Their words are spikes and battering rams that cause me to stagger and fall and cry before I can get to that entrance. That entrance that I must enter.
These voices are likely the same ones that have made me fear digging up the gems peaking from the field. That is a place that keeps a modicum of faith and confidence if I leave untoiled even if that is more due to delusion. The forest is different because I've been there. The shed is something I truly crafted, but now it is destroyed. The haunting voices have achieved their destruction and proven their point.
But the entrance remains open. The broken shed is sturdy enough to be repaired. The voices may be strong, but I'm starting to trust that they may just be the wind.