The Sacred Cost of Connection

As the engine rumbles eagerly to life, the clock glares at me: 5:35 am

Meaning, I have little over one hour to make a 90 minute drive in the pitch black while an ‘atmospheric river’ dumps rain on a highway prone to pooling during a springtime sprinkle, let alone a classic west coast fall rainstorm.

On a sunny day, the time crunch wouldn’t be an issue.

During a rainstorm though, danger bleeds nearer to reality. 

I consider calling off this escapade, but the truth is: the closer driving feels to rallying, the more fun I have, the more myself I become, the more alive I feel. 

This might not be wise, but this kind of edge is my favourite to ride.

So with eyes wide, breath steady, and two hands firmly on the wheel, off I go.

———

In The Trickster’s Prayer, we spoke of how once The Gravity of Coherence has settled into your bones, The Trickster, otherwise known as chaos, will appear to test you.

But chaos doesn’t only appear to test your mettle or try your balance.

Disruption to your plans isn’t an act of evil, but initiation in disguise.

Divine mischief doesn’t bubble up to fuck with you for fun.

The Trickster brings medicine, if you’re willing to listen, if you’re willing to learn.

———

As I back into my chosen parking space, the clock smiles at me: 6:32 am

I may or may not have set a new record for this trip, despite the horrid conditions.

With time back on my side, I pull out my phone to let Steve know that I made the ferry and will see him soon… only to discover that his tattoo machine died and he’s unsure if he’ll be able to get a new one today. Even if he does, our session would be rushed, which neither of us wanted. I can feel his stress oozing through my phone. 

So I slip off the boat as they’re closing the doors and walk back to my car.

A strange feeling walks beside me. 

I haven’t had my plans sideswiped like this in a long while.

I sit quietly in the driver’s seat for a few minutes.

The disappointment of plans falling apart, the frustration of wasted gas and unused ferry tickets, and the confusion of what to do with my day pour through me.

I breathe. I watch the clouds roll in as the sky lightens. I ponder.

“Let’s start by going home and surprising Yuki… and have another espresso.”

As the highway hums beneath my wheels again, my mind wrestles with the irritation of plans gone awry, and curiosity over what the lesson in this might be.

Somewhere between the ferry and the forest, I realize:

———

The deeper you move in relationship with others, the more you open yourself up to being touched and impacted by their chaos. This is inescapable. You don’t exist in a vacuum, unless you live off-grid, avoiding all human contact by design.

Thus, chaos is the sacred cost of connection.

So unless you want to live a life of isolation or frustration, you’re best served by developing and refining your ability to dance with chaos: life’s favourite dish to serve.

The engine thrums with pleasure over spending so much time in 5th and 6th gear.

This strange morning’s medicine suffuses me, and I feel myself lightening.

Disappointment vibrates into nothingness with the engine’s help.

Frustration flicks off of me like teensy bits of rubber do from my tires.

Confusion slides deeper into coherence each time I change gears.

I smile at what’s unfurled today, for I kept my pact:

To stay steady, no matter the storm.

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander

P.S. When I speak of something being sacred, there’s no religious or moral underpinning. I’m not referring to worship, hierarchy, or rule-keeping.

In my world, sacred refers to something intensely alive and worthy of devotion. 

A threshold moment; a creative act that feels channeled rather than contrived; a conversation that opens your chest; a flower or patch of moss that stills your mind.

All are sacred because they make you feel the pulse of existence more keenly.

When you deem something or someone sacred, you handle them with attention, with presence, with care, with reverence, patience, and deep trust in timing.

Whether a creative project, a person, a pet, a hobby, or a plant, being considered sacred means this is not for mindless haste, weak presence, or half-measures.

Being considered sacred means this is very much alive for you.

And what’s alive for you is sacred too.