I think the gift of my journey so far is the acute awareness of my own mortality
Which often leaves me with a sense of incredible impatience.
But equally so, inspires me to consume.
To inhale deeply all that is this life.
What I breathe out is not polished with wisdom and logic.
Not an unwavering calm or an even release.
It’s messy and incomplete.
Unravelling
and re-raveling
and unravelling again.
It’s wading through mud and occasionally stopping to sink.
Though to be stuck does not mean to never move again
And, oh, how I move.
I can move like honey
and let life flow through me,
a channel for the divine.
I can exist as both expansive and untouchable
and hold this space with loving kindness and deep, eternal peace.
And I can crumble.
I can exist without spirit and I can lose touch with where I am in all of this.
I can be cruel and callous.
Our outer world is merely a mirror of our internal state.
You manifest your reality
what you feel is what you see.
So, ejecting myself into societal flow on days when my spirit is wavering
is a most draining and suffocating experience.
Though, on days in which my soul sings
I remember to notice the sky.
Those are the times where I can pause and exist in my bubble
expansive and untouchable.
Oh, what a ride.
