Right now, all I care about is getting deeper and deeper in touch with myself.
I doesn’t matter who I reach with this as long as I reach myself. Daily, the universe throws stuff at me. Potential triggers. Things that could draw me away from my purpose. I’m giving in. I’m giving up. I’m declaring myself defeated. I stopped fighting and started to become the spectator of my own life. It’s an outer body experience. I’m sitting in a café surrounded by people. People I don’t know. People that don’t know me. I’m looking around and chills are rushing through my body. I have no resistance. I love everyone in here. I’m completely open and connected. Life is poetry. It’s a canvas and each and every one of us is a unique paint brush stroke. Only when we step back, we can see what the entire painting looks like. I can’t move and I don’t want to. More chills. My fingers work, the rest is still. If I’d die right now, I’d die in peace. Don’t try to revive me. All that will be left is a memory. A memory that faints. Take away everything I own. Tell me what I owe you. It doesn’t matter anymore. I still love you, but you are not important and neither am I. Nothing is. Chills again… again. How can life be worth living if we can’t agree on value. Strip way my body and try to judge what’s left of me. When we consider death, we become alive. To be humble means ‘to be close to the ground’. This is where we came from. This is what supports us and this is where we’re go back to. Standing up right can give me the illusion of being evolved. Maybe more than other creatures. But we are not more evolved than a fly, spider, mouse, elephant, tree or rock. Everything comes and transforms. Nothing ‘goes’ anywhere.
An idea. Maybe something to do. A challenge. A game to play. Maybe I’m gonna write a book. Writing makes sense right now. I don’t know why, but that doesn’t matter. Digestion. I can feel it in my guts. My lungs expand and contract. Nothing will ever be the same. They say everything is happening in infinity. Therefore, all of what has happened, is happening and will happen, is gonna repeat itself in an infinite universe. Maybe see you next time then. So, why is anything special? It has happened already. We just don’t have any memory of it. Copy, paste, delete original. That’s all it is. Nothing scares me anymore. The other day in the surf I saw a big fin breaking the surface close to me. Going by probability, it was most likely a Manta Ray. I wasn’t completely sure because I could only get a glimpse. I felt a sudden adrenaline rush in my body. If it was a shark, it would have been a big one. For a few seconds I paddles the other way, before I reminded myself of how nothing matters. Shark or no shark. I’m gonna leave this world when it’s time. Come and get me if it’s time. It’s not my wish to die, but I don’t worry about it. Have you ever watched a lion catch a gazelle? Once the lion latches on and takes the gazelle down there is a moment where the gazelle just gives in. No fighting, no struggling. Pure acceptance. Something needs to die for something else to live. As long as I remind myself about it every day, I can be at peace. As long as I’m alive you might think I owe you something, but when I’m dead all my depts are gone. They say we pay with our life as if it’s a currency. You fool. Life pays for itself. You can take my life if that makes you feel better, but you’re still gonna join me in the dirt one day. And even the remains of a murderer can be the foundation of rich soil and grow a beautiful flower.
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