05/12/2019
This is an old picture of me. I’m not this blonde or this sure of anything anymore. There’s a part of me that feels it’s been set on fire. Identity shifts, or is shifting. I feel post-something but I’m not sure exactly post-what. That which was once in the foreground seems to lay crumpled on the floor, like old clothes trampled underfoot. I wonder if it’s just an average mid-life crisis or if this existential angst I feel holds the key to some next-level awakening, or maybe a bit of both.
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Things that I was once definite about feel like sand flowing through my fingertips. All I know is that I don’t know where I’m going and I’m trying to be ok with that. I feel like I’m just starting to fully grasp where I’ve been, and, here in this new space that feels uncharted, with nothing to cling to, no solid sense of surety, maybe this “I” that I once knew and had defined is revealing its true illusory nature as no-thing. While being is eternal, the personal sense of self is temporal. There is no me and mine from the vantage point of timelessness.
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I spent years climbing mountains (figuratively speaking, I’m not great with heights and I’m not an actual rock climber) only to grow tired of the climb itself. Balanced tenuously on a ledge in my mind, straddling the dimensions of space and time, miles above the earth, tuned into the frequency of forming clouds, I gaze down and wonder what it would feel like to really fly, even if only for a moment, in the space between inhale and exhale, in the pause between thoughts, in the total dissolution between heartbeats.
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Don’t worry, I’m not actually jumping anywhere. I’m right here with both feel firmly planted on the ground, dreaming up a unicorn out of thin air, making magic cookies my bare hands from scratch.
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Photo
Practice with me on
🙏
