The books have been opened-
the content erased.
I know not anything.
I’ve always started at the end and worked backwards. If I know what I’m working towards I will then know what steps to take. This has only proved to be the wrong way. This denotes that you are certain of an outcome that is not possible to predict Maybe that is why it is so easy to want something other than yourself to look towards, to look up to, as you have then created a path to something you wish to become. But what if that is not your path?
I love the feeling of being led but not knowing why or how.
I used to hate my feelings so to now explicitly say that I love them is a stark contrast to my previous reality. I believed feelings were to be worked through, to be done with. I had no real appreciation for my own desires and my feelings were just getting in the way. Now, I realize that they are the way. Here is where words muddy the waters. “Feelings” they say, can’t be trusted. That may be true, but they are useful. Unbeknownst to me, they served as a compass relentlessly trying to grab my attention to a direction I actually wanted to go in. I’ve realized this in hindsight.
I believed feelings were nonsense, childishness, and only to be followed in peril. I believed in rational thinking, logic, above all else. And at times I still do. I do not know the balance, I do not know the truth. I see this life as a series of doors opening and closing, allowing you to choose what you’d like to see.
I have never been so decidedly uncertain in my life.
When I died to logic, I died inside myself for months. I stripped myself naked in a world that isn’t obligated to offer you clothing. I forced myself to see my own humanity. I refused to make it easy because it never felt real. I have never felt more alive in my life. I had clung to an idea of myself and in doing so chained myself—imprisoned myself–from my own potential. The hardest part for me is acceptance, with all its beauty and gore.
Acceptance has turned out to be something I never imagined. I honestly thought following “God” would eliminate my shortcomings. What I have found is something else. I have found that instead of my shortcomings disappearing, they are now cared for and nurtured, dressed and bandaged, directing me to care for myself rather than eliminate a part of myself.
When my whole “God World” disappeared, I disappeared. The world favors the strong, the loud, the efficient ones. What if you are none of those things? What if you were never destined to become one of those things?
If I live in a purely cause and effect world (an extremely complex and evolved world but with no grandiose meaning, no overarching reason or purpose for existence other than cause and effect) then I am subject to the person I am—genetics and experience and the culture around me. That is scary shit.
Why is that scary to me but not others? Is it because I have always felt helpless? Is it because I have mental shortcomings? Am I insane? Is it because my disposition is one of hesitancy?—one that is lured to laziness and overthinking?—one who has had traumatic enough social experiences to no longer want to engage? This is the beauty and gore.
In this place I have found love. There is no longer a delusion of certainty for I have accepted the mystery, with clenched fists slowly trying to open my hands…
There are not enough words, not enough definitions, not enough perspectives to satisfy the way I desire to express my soul. Words were once my favorite. I suppose because they allowed me to see things I didn’t before, to become something I wasn’t. Now they are but a glimpse of the full expression of the soul.
I will respect my journey and respect the journeys of others. This is my way of acceptance. Allowing myself, and allowing others. For what is it to hold beauty inside you only to long for another’s?
I’ve always started at the end and worked backwards. But what if that is not your path?