Wayward

I’ve found that all the words in the dictionary can describe the map in detail but it can’t capture the wholeness of the experience – of serendipity in walking the territory. The pauses are portals and I make sure that my words are animated by long periods of silence. I seek what magnetizes me and then write home about the strange journey there.

Gladiator heart

To cherish what is present, what I’m connected with, and to not throw that away in pursuit of what’s absent or ambivalent, what’s disconnected, discontented. The days of finding security in expunging all that’s hidden are over. My safety lies here, in my pulsing blood, in my rhythmic breathing, in my feelings that run deep. I’m an ecosystem and I trust that regardless of what comes at me, I’ll be able to return to my balance. I clear away everything superfluous that slows my flow down or obstructs my internal connection by forcing me to hold back my flow or find another, less invasive, path. The more I reveal to myself, of myself, the more that is revealed all around me. Even the silence speaks back to me in echoes.

Some people be like Saturn

Your truth doesn’t need words to be. It’s a derivative of the One whose witness never fails or falters. So if others deny or downplay your personal experiences, don’t take the reactivity bait because that’ll enter you into a never-ending mental imprisonment of constantly trying to establish your truth outside yourself. Only love can provide the nuance that accepts your truth. So if you have to explain or anticipate invalidation or skepticism then that’s a sign that it’s an inhospitable space for your truth. Don’t force yourself into that atmosphere.

Hitting the ground running

I feel abandoned on a visceral level
My existence unmet on the levels beyond thought and words
My emotions left unanswered, unacknowledged
The emergence of an instinct to grab on to something, an anchor in the physical world to remind myself that I’m actually living
That I’m not the phantom I feel myself to be
My existence is vague, like it might as well have not been
A faint line

I feel a deep resentment towards life. I wasn’t received when I needed it the most, and now I don’t need it anymore.

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