How death tastes

I’m still reeling from the death Avicii. We were the same age, from the same country. He seemed to be a sensitive introvert, as he’s mentioned before. Absorbing negative energies.

It got me thinking about how we strive to achieve and excel in whatever is celebrated by others, to gain a modicum of connection. But it only walls us off because it’s not from our most relatable talents and abilities that we suffer silently, but what we feel is unique to us and makes us vulnerable. What we fear sharing because it doesn’t have the same universal appeal as normative behaviours and choices do. The pain stems from there but we somehow think that we can compensate for it without having to breach it. Turns out that it only makes things worse because we’re forced to put up a facade that compartmentalizes our shame and hurt, in order to gain the reassurance from others that we aren’t what our scathing self-talk harps on about. It’s like an autoimmune disease, only it’s one’s thoughts attacking oneself and not the immune system. Instead of protecting and nourishing the self, we participate in the active demolition of it.

It got me thinking about how we strive to achieve and excel in whatever is celebrated by others, to gain a modicum of connection. But it only walls us off because it’s not from our most relatable talents and abilities that we suffer silently, but what we feel is unique to us and makes us vulnerable. What we fear sharing because it doesn’t have the same universal appeal as normative behaviours and choices do. The pain stems from there but we somehow think that we can compensate for it without having to breach it. Turns out that it only makes things worse because we’re forced to put up a facade that compartmentalizes our shame and hurt, in order to gain the reassurance from others that we aren’t what our scathing self-talk harps on about. It’s like an autoimmune disease, only it’s one’s thoughts attacking oneself and not the immune system. Instead of protecting and nourishing the self, we participate in the active demolition of it.

What if, I focused on seeking what nourishes me? I’d have to get through countless layers of self-hate and self-effacing thoughts that’d try to deter me, but what if my life’s work lies in what nourishes me? Because what nourishes me is self-sustaining and it also nourishes everyone, regardless. It’d fuel me instead of requiring me to fuel it. It’d connect me to the universe and people with similar mindsets, instead of connecting me indiscriminately to my surroundings, and potentially to people who would bring me down and clog me. I don’t know what that is because until last night, I didn’t even want to think about myself beyond the absolute minimum. I was on this journey of healing because the pain forced me. And I tried to kill myself off half a dozen times but that didn’t work. So I did it begrudgingly. For 6 years I’ve been approaching this as a prison sentence. But now the worst is transmuted and before me is a vast inner landscape that is supposed to hold the plants of my hope. I’m supposed to flourish and that’s a strange notion because at least with the suffering I had something known that I had to buckle up for, be courageous for, seek the truth in. But now… it’s like… I thought I’d get rid of myself. I thought my soul was the tumour. It’s so weird. But also, I realize that none of my ancestors have had access or knowledge of this inner landscape, let alone the ability to cultivate it. And that explains why I’ve always felt like an alien; I was born with this landscape that no one recognized and in fact, wasn’t supposed to exist. I tried to get rid of it because it posed an obstacle, another thing that separated me from the collective. It made me feel extremely lonely.

Of course, this can only be divinely curated and cultivated. And I have to take the utmost care to not railroad my soul, and to actively listen. It’s not easy when it’s so sensitive and gentle. It sounds like how Janet Jackson talks 😂. This life is so mysterious and I’m waking up to a different dimension every day. I’m a blank canvas and I’m intercepting symbolisms and details through my feelings that paint on me with wide strokes.

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