Tag Archives: meditation

Here.

My arms are fire and my head is set free. I close my eyes and I ask, one question becomes a thousand, and I am back at square one. No real answers. But then I sense the flame and it pushes me face first inward, into my deepest fears. The memories, the inadequacies, the needs from love to acceptance, all of my failed pursuits, they dance around me as I flare my arms at them. But those are fears and they are not real, they are not me, they do not control what I am, who I am. I torch the first fear, then the second and I realize that there is nothing in there, just air. Empty air. Until the fear of insanity comes running and howling at me, am I insane? No. Just another fear, the most powerful one of all. So where did all my pain and panic come from? No answer, nobody in that room. Nobody behind the steering wheel, nobody holding the pen. So I sit back and I let that let down happen. I hoped for a mastermind, I hoped that I would get to face a stronger opponent, and Yet here I am, baffled. What lay inside when all the fear is gone? How would I live when it’s no longer about avoiding fears and reacting to them? Where will I go when I stop running? Who will I become when I simply am ? 

Words roll out like red carpets beneath the feet of worshipers, and I cannot hold them back. As though prisoners have been let out. As though nothing can ever be said again the same way. Words form and collapse right infront of me and I am letting it all slide, no filters or fillers, nothing to add and little to subtract. A complete cycle of renewal, nothing is pale and everything is sincere. I set this space free, my arms are fire and my words are here. 

What it feels like

Do you want to know what happinness feels like? Do you wonder about the abundance or even absence of joyful moments in your life? I could ask away forever, but I won’t, instead I am going to share what happiness look like for me, because who knows? It might help you find your own.

He is the love of my life, and it happens that love decided to embody itself in his name for me. It is a joy to wake up and close my eyes everyday to the blessing of loving and being loved. Every time we meet, my heart swells and beats a little more gently. Those are moments of joy.

The day I discovered the wonder of mindfulness and meditation. I close my eyes and breathe in and out just as Thich nhat hanh teaches. I am swallowed by a silence and a sense of mercy unlike any other and it keeps getting more incredible every time I practice. I find joy waiting for me inside every time even if it were in the company of sadness. The joy is real. 

The joy out of the high of exercise. The sweat, the emancipation of fear, the blood pumping into places you didn’t know existed in your body. Happiness envelopes that state despite every challenge.

I cannot change the cards I have been dealt, but I sure as hell can get creative. And that is how I plan to live. Creative in my sadness and creative in my joy. What is being human if not experimenting with emotion and activity? 

Gloriously 

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 

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

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 

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.