In about four different ways i have written about the last couple of days in a series of very non-descript ways. This will be the fifth.
In other words, vague generalizations, bits of wisdom without the bits of detailed experience from which they came from, perhaps a few metaphors, and overall an estranged roundabout tale are to follow. Read at your discretion.
First note a couple of details that most of you already know:
1: i am currently living in Marseille, thousands of miles away from home and life as i have known it, gratefully taking some time to figure out just what it is i know about life and what it is i want to know once i have lived it.
2: i am a terribly (sometimes i like to think wonderfully) impulsive being. Hence Marseille.
So Marseille. Perhaps you know. Perhaps we had the chance to talk before i left. Likely you asked why i was coming here, and likely i shrugged, smiled, and replied, to eat/drink/smoke/write and generally live without pants for awhile. Likely now, having seen the photos, you know i just eat and do yoga. Well, i also think too much.
And one of the things i have been thinking about is how much we can never know about ourselves no matter how much thinking we do. There are some things we only discover when we stop searching our souls, and watch oursoulves (note: that was a typing error that i think is quite perfect...) respond to circumstance.
There has been much searching of my soul since this whole adventure began, and long before that. This past weekend, though, was less about searching and more about finding; i have been forced to see things i didnt want to see. Perhaps feel is the better word: felt things i didnt want to feel. Le sigh. It is humbling how the universe grants you the circumstances or the people that take you right to that place of uncomfortable acknowledgement of self, or give you the answer that works for every one of your questions and then you try to pretend like you didnt ask--but you cant.
As this happened, i watched myself receive these answers, and tried not--as a wise friend once guided me--to confuse being critical with being observant. Criticism comes from the ego; observation comes from a place of love. I pass on her words to you now, that even if you are left confused about who you are being, it is only a part of the process of unfolding into a deeper sense of self. Sometimes we know what is within each layer, but choose to keep ourselves folded up tight; other times we had no idea what was waiting to be unravelled. This weekend as my impulsive side took over, and i was taken away from the search and right into reality, i chose to see what was there for me. And feel what was there for me. I learned the difference between justification and acceptance--that excusing behaviour is not the same as seeing its purpose--a lesson, admittedly, i will likely find myself relearning. I sat still with the discomfort. And i moved my body through it. And let sleep dissolve some ideas. And let some understandings keep me awake. And i wrote the shit out of all i came to know.
And if you dont know, now you know--as a wise rapper once said.
Well, actually. You still dont really know--but i warned you of that. I wrote more openly to myself, because in the end, the only one who needs to see and know every intimate truth, to be in accepting observation and willing growth, is oursoulves. (i love that!)
There has been much searching of my soul since this whole adventure began, and long before that. This past weekend, though, was less about searching and more about finding; i have been forced to see things i didnt want to see. Perhaps feel is the better word: felt things i didnt want to feel. Le sigh. It is humbling how the universe grants you the circumstances or the people that take you right to that place of uncomfortable acknowledgement of self, or give you the answer that works for every one of your questions and then you try to pretend like you didnt ask--but you cant.
As this happened, i watched myself receive these answers, and tried not--as a wise friend once guided me--to confuse being critical with being observant. Criticism comes from the ego; observation comes from a place of love. I pass on her words to you now, that even if you are left confused about who you are being, it is only a part of the process of unfolding into a deeper sense of self. Sometimes we know what is within each layer, but choose to keep ourselves folded up tight; other times we had no idea what was waiting to be unravelled. This weekend as my impulsive side took over, and i was taken away from the search and right into reality, i chose to see what was there for me. And feel what was there for me. I learned the difference between justification and acceptance--that excusing behaviour is not the same as seeing its purpose--a lesson, admittedly, i will likely find myself relearning. I sat still with the discomfort. And i moved my body through it. And let sleep dissolve some ideas. And let some understandings keep me awake. And i wrote the shit out of all i came to know.
And if you dont know, now you know--as a wise rapper once said.
Well, actually. You still dont really know--but i warned you of that. I wrote more openly to myself, because in the end, the only one who needs to see and know every intimate truth, to be in accepting observation and willing growth, is oursoulves. (i love that!)
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