
The path = GOALS -âA swanâs wing showsâ
âWhat do you want REALLY?â
Tantra is the Path of Attachment. Being is travel. Movement. Closing in on a possible, seemingly viable Soulmate, we need to move forward slowly, checking items off our list and paying close attention to the items on THEIR LIST.
Thatâs the focus of the passage we call âThe Pathâ â bringing your intra-psychic âlistsâ to consciousness. Because you are always operating with a list, whether you are aware of it or not, but some of the items on it might be seriously out of date, illogical, contradictory or downright pernicious. (Such as, âI need my partner to guarantee theyâll never get sick or grow old.â)
Think deeply about your dreams and do your best to verbalize them, if only to yourself or to a trusted other. Some of us benefit by writing it down. Accept that goals evolve becauseâŚwe are alive. Being is travel, remember?
Goals are all about communication. With yourself first, then with others. As we feel our way forwards, our goals change. Having a partner whoâs the same as we are (an introvert, a careerist, a Democrat, to give a few examples) may suddenly stop being so important as we connect on a deeper plane. Some of our goals were designed to protect us, and it may be that as we begin to trust our partner and grow ourselves we need less and less protection.
Being is Travel. As we shape the Path, it shapes us. Even the most anti-social creatures are constantly making paths for others to follow. Such delight when we uncover a ready-made Path! (Path-making is exhausting!) Such a mysterious invitation! Paths must lead Somewhere. Paths speak of Destination, Intention, Design, History. Every Path, Visible or not, speaks of the existence of The Other. Paths are our Robinson Crusoe footprint. They represent Hope: this Path worked not just once, but many times. We are proud of being Pathmakers in our turn, leading the weary, frightened traveler of the future toward confidence and reliability.
Goals
A swanâs wing shows
The universe.
No surprise to me –
From this small window I see
More than I can ever
Understand; still I cast my nets
And still Iâm sinking;
Restless; forced to move
This unfriendly virus IS my blood –
I see it in your eyes
Thirties wasted and nothing come.
It never quite meets –
Attempt and reach.
I see it in my dreams which
Introduce me to the dead;
Protect my essence from the hive.
Wrapped tightly in this web of
Earthly light; we
Pray for mystery, glory; thought & sight.








