Meander with me, once again, folks!

Let's go.

Morning Bird's Energy

It must be the morning bird's energy. And coffee from last night. I am awake and typing. It's atypical for the hour but here l am. I did a stretch. Drank water. Walked on cool tiles. My body is wonderfully heated up. Morning birds coo. Some are singing. The early day's light bursts through the curtain, soft and intoxicating.

Created Meaning

It's easy to be me. I just be. It's a different story to explain to another how it is the experience of being oneself as though words can even approximate this instantaneous play of being. I find comfort in silence. It's never empty. It's full of life, colored with whatever meaning l choose to paint the canvas with. Beyond my own created meaning, life vibrates through and towards me. Away and all around. 

Disappearing Puzzle Piece

I try to find words to describe this realization and shed it. There's nothing for me to keep here. No one, thing or place for me to mercilessly fight for or possess. I am here not for anyone's purposes but only my own. There's a love in this. It's a love that frees me. A love that needs no declaration. It used to be that something in me tried to grasp on in a vague search for a disappearing puzzle piece. It used to be an entity of a grey mist of suffering from which my actions begrudgingly set forth. I rest it all in the arms of life and float across the great existential ocean. I am home finally. 

Dualistic Language

I am understanding of me. Even when I am in knots, I am right there with me. The dualistic language here is purposeful.

Pulse

Even when I am alone, I'm especially not. It's funny now to notice this dichotomy and feel it in the depth of your gut. I am not saying it as a form of self-soothing strategy. I am not saying it to comfort you. Realize that the universe is in full support of you and I. It's best to go swinging to the end with all of our hearts in concert with the pulse of life. It brought you here. It will bring you out of here. In between, live. Don't forget to  let go when the time is ripe.

Time

I can't be bothered to understand something if understanding isn't yet arriving. I will not pretend to understand it. Time along with a gathering of data will assist surely. For this time period, I shall be in a state of silent enquiry. It's the easiest thing to do to fall in line with the majority. I have no personal interest in being right. I could be wrong. Leave it at that.

Soft Bits

For minds to be nurtured to think critically, the environment ought to be in support of that. If the tendency to toe the line is manipulated psychologically and through other coercive channels, then what hope do we have for ever utilizing the soft bits inside our skulls and think independently.

Simple

Too many thoughts can get in the way of simple understanding. Get the body moving. Sit in nature. There's nothing better than that. Trust.

Narratives

I used to be in love with the idea of thoughts. Certain thoughts felt cool. Others, not so much. Once l lost the plot, suffered and noticed how it's totally insufferable when others who experience it too attempt to pull you into their self-made mental typhoon, I quickly came to the understanding that l can take a deep breath and see thoughts as worded impressions that may or may not be of help. Mental narratives aren't reality though you can certainly try to conform your life to fit them but they are too narrow, distorted. Smoke and mirrors.

shanaz@RS | 12:15 AM | Labels: meander series