Onwards Still

There was a time when I had words to express my feelings. I don't anymore. I write because there is nothing that gives me an easier vent to the non-stop reel playing inside me. I can't say head or mind or heart anymore, because I know not where exactly this reel keeps playing itself. 

It feels like I’ve been travelling for a long while now and I’m in need of stopping at a river-bend or a milestone and spend some time in silence. But it also seems that I’ve realised somewhere deep inside that silence is merely the absence of dissonance, of noise - but not the absence of sound. 

I find it more and more difficult with every passing day to understand my existence in relation to this universe. And so to understand my emotional journeys in reaction to the elements in my world that I experience every day. Wherein lies the source of my emotions, my reactions, my misgivings of thought? When I like someone or something, what is the trigger of that feeing? When I love someone or something what is the pathway that brings me there? I do not know. I have no answer.

The feelings inside me arise not with the purpose to reach any aim or find realisation in a conclusion, but merely, just merely, to exist. They happen. And because they happen, they exist. Such is the existence of my body and form as well as my mind and spirit. It’s all a huge improbability drive. It’s not a confusion or chaos; it’s a clearance, an unknotting.  

What is my place? Where is my place? I feel like a molecule drifting through unfathomable space. Completely un-rooted. Bobbing along happily – with nowhere to go, nowhere to reach. What is this state of mind? Have I given myself so completely that finally I am free of myself, and now I’ve reached that liminal state in between the loss and find of the self? Or am I deeply, and inconceivably, lost, never to be found again?

A deep silence resides, filled with white noise. This is not peace, nor is this a state of constant dilemma. It’s just a state that exists, now, within me. Where I have lost the power and ability to think. To control. To analyse. To interpret. Am I free? Or am I that utterly irredeemable loser now?

 Who am I?

Why do I feel such deep compassion within me? Such freedom from worries when all around me there are a lot of things screaming for my worry, my time of thought? Why am I so happy, and yet so deeply hurt?

Is there some place where I will one day receive an answer? Is there an experience waiting for me just around the river bend that will unveil those answers to me? Will the answer giver have a form, a shape? Will it be tangible?

Right now I feel like something is about to happen. Something is coming up. I do not know what. Something big, stupendous, that will leave me dumb. That will erase my existence. I feel like I am on the verge of experiencing the sublime in its most fearful avatar. It will horrify me beyond my senses and leave me so miniscule that I shall become non-existent in relation to the universe. Yet, I cannot say that I am scared. I am not. I cannot say I am excited. I am not. I am nothing right now. Yet I have never felt more existent before. Even in my most passionate feverish hours I have not felt my own presence in such a manner. In my quest to be kind, be helpful, be loving, am I finally starting to accept myself? Or am I finally starting to negate myself, so that I myself am becoming non-existent to myself? I do not know. Am I then experiencing liminality? Or is this the path of peace? Humility? Submissiveness? Forgiveness? Or is this the path that is slowly taking me towards a rebellion, a revolution? Am I fighting myself or am I making peace with myself?

Where do I stand?

I am sad, yet happy. Lonely, yet not alone. Am I home?