There comes a point in every journey where the shroud is lifted, the veil is torn, and life as it once was can no longer exist because it was not, in the truest sense, reality. This point of no return is oft benchmarked by moments or events that seem to separate the wheat from the chaff, the milk from the cream and has the uncanny ability to propel the story being told into new and exciting chapters where every turn of the page is unknown and the mystery being unraveled is embraced with childlike wonder. This catalytic experience is not simply satiated by change for change's sake but, through total transformation power, it morphs the narrative into something beautiful where pain becomes triumph, scars become diamonds, and failure is just a speed bump on the battle ridden road towards glory. There is power in catalytic transformation of the heart.
This is the story of my journey.
Welcome to The Braveheart Intensive.
The excursion to the center of one's own heart is not for the timid nor for the weak. Much like Frodo's pilgrimage into Mordor, the road ahead could and would prove to be treacherous and filled with snares and set backs but awakened to a new dawn and remembered with triumph and glory. On the eve of this expedition, I chose to rest-- in prayer, in solitude, in anticipation. The catalytic journey for my soul was about to start but at that moment I was poised with the posture of a sprinter in the starting blocks. Ready, but waiting. Intensely focused, but restful. My aspiration was that we who dared to dream would be propelled into the unknown of our own hearts and unleashed there by the Spirit of Him who dreamed us into existence. I was saturated in prayer hoping, waiting for the Lover of my Soul to spark within me something powerful.
It begins.
Silence. Reverence. Reflection.
Weighed down like Atlas with the world on his shoulders, the multitude of burdens were chained to my torso and drove my legs into the ground with each step I took. Within minutes, I was digging deep into the wounds that buried my strength within the soil of lies from years of misappropriated intimacy but slowly it was revealed, the one thing that I knew was always there, a scared little boy. But, it was time to lay these burdens down. The journey demanded it. No pilgrimage into the heart could be embarked upon without radical removal of these heavy chains.
The little boy would need to come with me. This was his story as well.
The culmination of the first day ended well with a celebratory cigar. The road was marked out before me and the real cultivation of my heart was about to begin... but the burdens were gone.
Come with me, scared little boy, let me show you a more excellent way. Let us journey into what is the truest part of our identity.
The Braveheart Intensive.
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composed by
dave
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