“I don’t know, Lynn; I just feel flat, as if I’m stuck.”
“You’ve probably just reached a plateau.”
“What do you mean?” Lynn, fifteen years my senior, was a beloved cousin and mentor. When I was young, I knew her as a famous singer who traveled and performed with celebrities. Poor health forced her off the road, and a failed marriage stripped her of all material wealth. Yet, Lynn never lost her quiet dignity, and I found in her a gentle friend, who was always willing to listen.
“The spiritual journey has been compared to climbing a mountain: sometimes the going is easy and exhilarating; sometimes it is steep and difficult; and sometimes you reach a plateau.”
“That feels about right.”
“Have patience, and when the time is right, you will move again.”
I always pictured Lynn as a pillar in my life. Her strength and presence often held me up. Since she died fifteen years ago, no one else has taken her place.
* * * * *
My quest for spiritual enlightenment started as a little girl. I distinctly remember being five and having a strong sense of purpose, as if God put me here on this earth to do something. I felt it was important to keep the door open for God, so that I would be ready when the time came. My faith was pure, innocent, and wholehearted.
Fifteen was when I started to have doubts and turned my back on God. I also fell into a depression that would not break for many years.
At twenty-eight, I felt like I suddenly woke up from a deep sleep, and the quest was on again. These were the years when Lynn and I bonded, and I tackled that mountain with fervour. I had never felt so alive. Even through hardship and pain, I never felt alone. I knew that God was with me.
Then I turned my back again. It was nine years ago, but now I’m backing, asking questions again; wondering.
I guess I just hit another plateau, Lynn.