Filling the cup

Imagine a glass of water. Fill it half way. Full or empty, I don’t really care what you call it. Next, imagine yourself shrunk to the size where you can stand on a tiny raft in the middle of this glass.

As more and more water and knowledge and learning and love goes in, the glass becomes fuller. All the while, this water is carrying the shrunken self higher and higher up on the glass.

I felt more and more on top of the world. I can do anything, it seemed, rising quickly. But then the water hit the top. And instead of saying “Okay! Right on man, this cup is full”.

I did exactly what I had been training to do. I kept filling up the water.

The water began to rush, spilling over the sides. Pulling my little boat every direction, all at once. I dropped anchor, fear consuming me. My anchor in this case, the first time my cup overflowed, was drugs.

Drugs emptied the cup. Let it start over. But what they left behind was an ashy residue on the bottom of my glass. So that when new water was poured in, it all began to look scarred with black.

No matter how hard I run, I can’t stir the ash out of the glass.
What I can do, is stop swimming in the water.
Get back on that little boat.
Take it to the top of the glass.

Slowly this time. Appreciating both the
Fullness beneath me, and the room to grow.

Find out if there is any water on the other side.