Poetic Prose
Sacred Constraints: The Grey Path Home: Updated Version.
A Paradoxical Prize.
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The tunnel is grey and is often dreary. Grey is not the color of motivation. The tunnel has long been grey and has always looked much like a tunnel, so I have purposely learned to see it as a source of motivation, despite that it definitely isn’t that.
At times I have meditated to find the tunnel’s meaning. However, the universe holds some things as mysteries, and this is one. Little to no insight has ever been gained. And this despite years devoted to ascension pathworking! Morning and night I sit in sanctity, open to higher wisdom, performing the inner work that should by nature guide me to the illumination and transformation of any blockage.
Always following the masters’ teachings with dedication, rising before dawn for meditation is my rule—capturing channeled messages in notebooks and practicing manifestation techniques along the way.
The journey of the soul in ascension is my constant companion alongside this grey tunnel, two realities that somehow coexist without even faint residue of logic between them.
Yet there were moments when the grey veil parted. Once, Archangel Ezekiel appeared before me, transforming my avatar to that of Nefertiri and her abundances, bestowing me with an intangible golden pentacle. “This can achieve anything,” came the message. But that gift remains unused, suspended in possibility.
Could the pentacle be the missing piece? The key I’ve held all along but feared to turn? Something about its power feels overwhelming—what worth of purpose could match such a gift?
Other moments that ephemerally pierced the grey veil—when a friend’s eyes glared upon describing a towering Elohim that emerged from the wall nearby, who insistently urged me to change dwellings. With limited resources, I did not. Then, another spoke of Archangel Gabriel standing at my back, wings spread over me in divine protection. These glimpses of the unseen world shed light but quickly faded, leaving me with as many questions about the meaning of it all.
What have I done to earn this prize? It must have been something grand, because no matter what I do, no matter what kind of success is offered or materializes—a top-ranked salon felled by health; a widely-read blog that couldn’t earn; an offered and earned high-paying corporate position that disintegrated before the fact due to my age, which was known all along; or even a telecommunications deal with a large, legitimate corporation that promised steady income, until their deception surfaced—as sure as shit, the tunnel turns back into that same exact form.
And there it is!—the light at the end of the tunnel—that ever-present carrot dangling before this donkey’s nose, promising everything while delivering nothing but an obligation to move towards!
AI-generated image by Bing AI Image Generator.
I’ve even magicked it, but it’s known that certain things put in place by the universe cannot be changed. Yet I succeeded in a way. What spellwork did was lead to the biggest blowbacks. In other words—boy, did I succeed, but boy, did I fail.
I used to see it as a bad joke, questioning if I had misunderstood the teachings that promised transformation. I used to think that maybe dark entities or attachments were taunting me. However, I’ve become a master of banishing; if there were any negative entities blocking me, they’re gone. The external threats dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the internal reality—this steady pull towards a mysterious purpose.
And is it ironic or is it not?—that this tunnel—this constraint—has forced a compressed focus on ascension. Each collapsed opportunity, each closed door has channeled my energy inwards and upwards. I’ve developed spiritual muscles that freedom might never have forged.
Then, in the darkest moments, divinity made itself most known—when tears flowed freely in a bathtub, Ezekiel appeared. And when grief overwhelmed me in the park, automatic writing revealed an ancient friendship between he and I; we had “walked the fair lands together” in a time long past. The grey tunnel has led me deeper into communion with the divine than any open road might have. But as stated, there are mysteries untold.
Still, sometimes, in quietest meditation, comes a vaguely discernible hint at purpose—
that I am being prepared as a tool, a pillar amongst other pillars for times of great change ahead—
that all this constraint serves to forge something necessary for others, not just myself—
that when upheaval comes, I will have achieved a certain spiritual awareness status required to serve. Could this be the meaning of it all? A cosmic preparation for service not yet revealed?
So, I return to what I already said—what have I done to deserve this reward, this honor? What have I done that was so outstanding, so remarkable, so valuable to the universe that I have this?—this never-ending guidance that confines me to this tunnel-like existence—that allows me to maintain the obviously very specific mission I came here for—one so important to spirit that my free will seems purposely constrained, as if universal intelligence requires the mission’s completion through me and only me, but its nature remains hidden and all paths that lead elsewhere close off without deviation?
I’m bound to this path like Osiris’s chosen—suffering now for theoretical abundance later—trapped in a freedom that consists solely of accepting what cannot be changed. Each attempt to sway from this path brings down the cosmic axe once more, as if some outer force manages my destiny with merciless efficiency. I do see it as an honor, which is only logical given the extent of my spiritual work done to date; it’s not a blockage caused of negligence. On the other hand, it is rather an unimaginable hell.
We all know the things that we are to do that we dread to face or even fully fathom. Despite all I’ve considered while writing, I do know that the ley of the land here is unkind to my purposes and that it would serve me to move. I also know that if I use the pentacle, the means to move will present. It took until rewriting this poem that was published a month or so ago to fully realize these things. (Sad to say, the message about the land ley came well over a decade ago.)
Jump to today, now that I’ve changed gears in pathworking—
I now know in my core of being I AM being prepared and that the time I’ll be called to the plate is nearing the doorstep. The last piece of the puzzle fell into place when I realized that a tunnel, the way I have perceived it in relation to this, has no offshoot branches. My mission is what lies beyond the end of it. No sooner had the realization come than I received a transmission indicating that synchronicity has occurred—I am right where I should be.
One of my departed canine companions offered a vision—of a tunnel with steps spanning its width; they were descending. Unlike most visions that arrive with immediate clarity, this one lingered in mystery until its meaning suddenly crystallized months later. The public nature of those steps suggests a calling to fix the collective structure, a crack in the foundation that requires a different route to be taken.
The truth was deliberately withheld from me until the proper time—my purpose, or one of them, lies not in traversing the length of this tunnel but in descending, a revelation I wasn’t meant to understand until this moment of convergence. Perhaps this grey path constrains me laterally precisely because my true movement is meant to be adverse vertical—into the bowels of existence where repair is needed most.
© Jude Ravenhall, 2025 forward. | You are invited to follow me at medium.com/@jravenhall. | If you would like to support my work, feel free to buy me a coffee at https://Ko-fi.com/ravenhall.
