It’s raining today. Yesterday… I discovered… how egotistical I was before I took off to travel and experience a different slice of life…
how… really, ego was merely protecting me. And at this point, without the intensity of my ego that previously dominated my psyche… I feel more free. I feel less inclined… to be someone I’m not and more often… realise I am unconcerned… with how someone perceives me, though I perceive the value of first impressions and presentation.
the sweet acceptance of where i am… where i was… looking back, is incredibly warming. not that the journey is complete, it reminds me of hiking to machu picchu… the stops along the way… the lookout… the swing, arching over the edge, the expanse of green, surrounded by pachamama, it’s like that. the effort of getting there, is not about the final destination. the final destination never mattered as much as the journey. what does the final destination mean then? what would having a degree mean to me?
in learning that endings are beginnings, it’s as though i can sense the one looming on the edge of my horizon, that’s where i’m going.
i needed the time off. i’m glad.
perhaps, it was travelling, that brought in an understanding of how i am… and an integrated understanding of karma. as esoteric as it sounds, it works in a practical way. everything i judge, have learned to judge, will one day come around and teach me compassion the difficult way. it’s simpler, to let judgement go.
what i was so afraid of. rejection? once, yes, deeply. now? now… i wonder why. why i ever took it so personally. why i ever wanted things that never made sense to me on a deeper level. conditioning. is the answer that comes. but also, deeper than conditioning, authenticity… i became authentic, in my pursuit of authenticity.
this is the place to start, isn’t it?
not in the literal death, but in the metaphoric and the symbolic.
where everything has been broken down.
is the place to begin anew.
this funny chokehold that i used to feel, is gone. this naive, foolish, sillyness… of trying to be someone i wasn’t, failing that and failing at being whoever i really was, a hangover from adolescence… has gone. in its place, seems to be the freedom i instinctively knew was mine as a child… conditioned out of, surrendered to the powers outside of myself… has returned.
not in its naive iteration anymore… but in the truth and the reality of this world… in the paradox of knowing what is real and what is an illusion and that it’s all the same thing. in existing in realities that cross over and tickle at the edges and the seams of cultures and worldviews and models about life.
about being here… breathing… a space between there and now, a space between the past and the present, like a venn diagram, i don’t recall ever being in this space, as though i jumped too fast from one stage to the next and missed this one.
it’s the space we may inhabit at some point in our lives. it’s often a space nobody willingly goes. its liminality belies the comfort of the habitual. but it’s the space you find yourself in when life becomes intolerable in the way you experience it, it’s the place where all your inner strength and demons will surface if you have the courage to dissolve. everything that doesn’t matter, that cannot matter… that will not matter… will die. sometimes gaspingly furious for breath. surrender is never passive but active and always, terrifying… because surrender is the initiation into the unknown, of territory that you’re unfamiliar with.
it’s pouring outside now. there’s something about this weather that’s tickling me, behind these glass windows where i’m warm… there is not much to frustrate me.