What Is the Question?

..........I remember that whilst doing a pathworking some years ago, I found myself walking along a gravel path - in my imagination. To my left was a high, red brick wall with trees growing on the other side, with their branches overhanging the wall and the path. Along the base of the wall all sorts of grasses and weeds were growing freely yet without any apparent need to overwhelm their companion species. The trees made a welcome shade from the hot sunshine. As I walked, it happened that I came across an old door set somewhat skewed by age in the wall, and so well set after many years of existence that I almost missed it. The wood from which the door was constructed was old but sturdy and darkened by some process I could not determine. I reached out to touch the rusty-looking handle, noticing as I did so that the great hinges were also covered with a layer of rust. I gripped the handle, which miraculously turned easily, and pushed gently on the door. The door swung open gently without a trace of resistance, or the expected squeak of protesting metal. I slipped through the open doorway, into an exquisite garden. I closed the door behind me, knowing I would never need to leave that way again..........

          It was suggested very recently by Natalie that rather than 'going to my room' I should perhaps go out into the garden. Her comment did not immediately rouse the memory from its slumbers, but a gently nudge towards awakening had been felt below the surface of my consciousness. Today, during my meditation, the memory of a secret, inner garden visited so long ago, and sadly forgotten for too long, emerged into the light of consciousness. I will not describe that garden in detail, for it is a very personal place for me, except to say that the garden is kept by an old Gardener whom I have had the joy of communicating once in a while. We do not talk, we simply communicate.
          The garden is more than a place in which to relax and let go of the thoughts, sometimes troubling, that seem to be my ever present companions. And already I seem to have reclaimed the garden, complete with its many usages. It is a secret place where I search for questions. Now it may appear strange to be seeking questions rather than taking time out to seek answers that, in the end, are not of any great moment. There are so many questions that one asks, and can ask, yet the really important questions always seem to hide just beyond the corner of one's eyes.
          Of late, my journey has obliged me to come close to glimpses of christianity. And that has served its purpose. Yet it seems to me that all religions and spiritual philosophies are, by their specialist natures, too narrow and restrictive. Neither can it be said that I have been completely comfortable with the recent approach which I have felt necessary to adopt. However, there have been gains for which I am grateful. But now there are changes in the air, and I have little idea what those changes are about. I feel that the realm of psycho-spirituality is one which is too large for anyone to fully grasp or even imagine. As for me, I will continue to try to work out the tiny part that is my privilege to experience.
          I need to let go, not merely to play at letting go in the hope of salving my ego. There is a whole new area of experience waiting to be explored, using those gifts of imagination that have served me well in the past, and are chafing to be set free again. To make use of the words of Shakespeare's, "Richard II", 'pray God I may make haste but (not) come too late.' Oh what I wouldn't give for a measure of patience. What wouldn't I give to know the right questions.