Disjointed & Awake
Been a minute since I've let the words slip from my tongue to the ethers of the Internet. Daily journal musings roam through travels and love and a broken open heart. Here I write without clear intensions. Just disjointed and awake.
Yesterday I listened to a lecture for how to approach the global state of tragedy and terrorism. Sat with sensations of emptiness, confusion, exhaustion, guilt, and blessings. I had intended to have it play while I cleaned the apartment- productive in space and mind. But I just sat and let it wash over me. Terrorism- a promotion of fear. Fear- our deepest sickness. How do I respond? How does action appear for me? I don't want to shuffle it all around- I want to break it down to reveal something new. I may not be a screaming voice, but I wish to have warmth. And to be willing to adjust- to walk the path asked of me.
I turned 30. I was gifted Krista Tippett's new book, "Becoming Wise." These are the inquiries I wish to explore. I'm not here to just develop my own sense of comfort, but to ride the line- extend into that unknown- an edge which opens my eyes and roots my feet. She talks about questions. And our assumptions that questions require an answer. Or that the answer is direct, known, concrete.
Answers fall as sensations, or show up unexpectedly- as if having nestled up slowly, without full attention, until suddenly you are wrapped up with something new. Questions that open the door to new questions create a new way to look, and so a new direction of focus.
I found myself laying on the kitchen floor. What questions do I need to ask? How can I bring more love to what I do, everyday? Not just, what I want to do- because that connotes a job, a thing, an action-- but how do I actually wish to spend my time? What do I want to feel? What do I want to think about? It will always be the shifting of beliefs- ideas- philosophies that motivate my being.
I don't need to be perfect. I don't need to be perfect to my body. Or Have a perfect mind. Perfection in whatever image of spiritual la la yogi whatever. I wish to fully accept myself and love whatever that is in the moment. I value freedom. I value freedom for all beings. I wish for all beings to feel free.
I think of myself as an open person. I put it out there. I share my truth. I do my best to be fluid and kind and allowing of others. I have shadows I'm sure I don't see. But recently I've been touched with vulnerability. I've been met with purity- asked only to be myself- without expectation. I felt love from another before there was the assurance I could reciprocate-- this generosity has humbled me. It has stirred the hang ups, slowed the pace, and made life become possible in new ways. As if I perceive through time and touch destiny.
"I'm committed to this everyday," he said. "I will do my best to show up. And I can admit when I'm wrong. Let's nurture our shared dreams and adventure the mundane."
You take me to the core. To embrace the fragility of life. I'm coming back to the page. I'm in. And sometimes out. And scared. And but also over being afraid.