I endure the uncomfortable feeling of silence, openness, and emptiness. I let it speak to my soul. I listen... I watch... I realize that by seeking busywork, I'm really trying to avoid being with myself.
After a while -- usually quite short, if I'm sincere about it -- I start to feel myself more deeply. I merge with the surroundings, and a magical but also plain and simple feeling appears. It's hard to express in words; it's like I find my undefined and limitless being, which is like (or is) Nature itself.
Then wind blows and leaves rustle in my heart. The moon and the wolves are alive in me. Clear sky, cedar scent, the running of a brook, and slimy muck are all speaking with my voice.
I think the key is knowing or having faith that the emptiness is correct; it's not a mistake. The empty, boring, or lost feeling is just the surface of our true being, which is vast, boundless, and unreasonable. And Yet I still have trouble typing. I have never had to be so mechanistic when I am typing, and now I am having trouble. It's a weird thing the words are there but it's not completely fluent. I cant tell if it was always this way or if I have just started to notice it. I feel like I used to be able to type faster, with much less errors. Now I am warming up this feels better.
New home sweet home for a while...how is it a person can be excited out of their mind and scared shitless at the same time?
New home sweet home for a while...how is it a person can be excited out of their mind and scared shitless at the same time?
There's some discomfort as we shed our habitual craving to limit and define and hold onto things; but very soon, we can open up into a real magnificence.
It's like shedding 'small me' and re-embracing 'big me'.
