Tag Archives: meditation

Gloriously 

6 Aug

Story upon story, my mind plays and skips across roads and thoughts less traveled. But then again, the roads I have travelled keep on teaching me, grilling my stamina and testing my willingness to accept the gloriousness of being so small in such a brilliantly huge world.

My heart is heavy sometimes, and my choking anxiety hits hard, but on most days my peace prevails, fed by the beauty of shores, lakes and sunflower fields. 

The stillness of home feels as it should, but the pumping heart keeps pushing my eyes open, I can’t sleep; there is so much to see. So I put myself in my bed after days of sleeping on planes trains and cars, using sign language to try and describe the confusion of being so thrilled and so lost all at once. 

I rest my case for now and leave some of my words here, I must release the rest with my eyes closed and my mind open. The soul glares with color and summons me to slow down and rejoice. The high of adventure sways my fingers into a halt, and I pull myself from this practice into a deeper one.

Mortality: The ceiling 

13 May

Like a little bodied statue I stare at the ceiling. One of many ceilings and walls I’ve faced and knocked down, this one refuses to move, it refuses to let me through. I let go and decide to just lay there, maybe now I see the big picture, maybe now I see the truth. Maybe this ceiling is keeping me from completely fading away and losing touch. 

I trace my thoughts back but I have none, I have gotten too good at quieting my mind, I have become stronger and less concerned with my body. The dread remains however. The unyielding and unrelenting need to belong somewhere to something to someone, and to feel infinite remains like the strongest emotion, the most powerful thought to ever exist. I cannot come to grips with mortality, not yet. 

I stare still and remain in my body, feeling an utmost safety in it, fearing the thought of ever losing it. Fearing the day that I let it go and crack the ceiling. Why is there no infinity right here and now? Why can we not have that? Is that the biggest ego of all? To want it forever? To have continuous return? Why is it excruciatingly painful and dreadful to be so close mortality and still refuse to see it?

Is this the highest feeling of love? Is it the newfound appreciation to every spirit surrounding yourself that gives you the courage to do this? Gives you a purpose and a light? How much have we forgotten to be able to be here today? How much are we blinded from that let’s us sleep at night and not crawl back to our mothers. 

I find my dark friend laying next to me, and together we look up at the ceiling. We hold eachother, I comfort him with my hope and with my light, while he confronts me with the truth: my mortality and everyone else’s, and our never ending pursuit of a single extra moment of being awake and breathing together. 

The choice

1 May

What happens when you pause? When you are drenched in a moment, be it of grace or of hurt and pain, what happens if you can just pause it and exit for a second? 

What happens if you pause a moment of suffering and step out of that frame and look at yourself? What would you see? 

I cannot answer for you, but I can answer that question for myself. 

I am terrified in the moments leading up to the pause, I do not want to stop, I become the pain, I become the illness I become the anger, the fear and the suffering. It takes courage and unrelenting faith to split from myself. The act of forming space, creating distance between what you feel and what you truly are is agonizing and foreign. How could it be that I am not pain if it is all that I can possibly think about and feel? How is it possible to separate myself from my sick body or from my worried mind. What if this is it? What if i don’t live forever, what if I am not healthy forever, what if I lose everything that makes me who I am? What if I am a victim of the suffering, and there is nothing I can do about it?

 The path towards self destruction is paved by our own hands before anybody else’s. 

But, there is a way out. All the what ifs are then stopped by one thought: if so, let it be, but I am not the suffering nor am I its victim. Upon that recognition, I overcome the fear, I release myself. I become an agent, no longer a victim. And in that split second, that pause is a transformation and a triumph. 

Dwelling in that pause, and pulling yourself up requires practice and requires patience. There are no shortcuts. The fear will always remain, so will our strength to overcome. It is essentially all a choice, every second of every day. 

Nothing Lost 

5 Mar

It remains a struggle to look outside of yourself and truly comprehend the wonder in this world. It remains an endless challenge to still believe at the end of the day, right before you close your eyes that you have been a force of good, a positive reinforcement to the powers at play. 

I dwell in the sunlight as I write, it envelopes my body like a loving mother covers a cold child. The spots that have darkened with life, are cleared away by the grace of light. 

I am still and bright, I am quiet as I gain my strength back. Nothing is ever lost inside this light. She watches from afar and greets my wanderlust soul, she watches from afar and smiles as I win this fight. 

It requires practice and might, it requires a journey through the dark. It is sometimes easy and at times a plight. She grants me a lantern and a ring to my step; she teaches me a song and disappears from sight. 

Nothing is ever lost within this light.