I'm not really sure if it's more accurate to call it a day off or a day on. I didn't have to wake up at 5 or 6am and get my self together. So I lay there in bed listening to the rain on the roof. It was a strange sleep, leaving me feeling that I didn't know what was real anymore. As I doze back and forth between the two states - my dreams become of real things, and my real becomes strange and muddled.
It was a humid day spent inside. I feel a certain weakness in my limbs. Definitely it could be to do with the highly physical job that I do. I tell myself that I am going to quit that job, at the exact moment that I have become a consistently paid content creator. Plans were laid, dreams were dreamed. Intentions have been set for a while now, and things are changing.
There's a cunning balance between taking the right actions, and allowing things to progress themselves. Most importantly there's a need to recognize the changes that do happen as a result of my own magic powers of manifestation. There's a need to believe and trust that I will become what I am meant to be. Perhaps the most important thing of all is to be in a state of gratitude for all the great things happening, and to put down the goal orientated mind for a moment.
I harvested salad greens in the persistent downpour, my pants and my multi coloured hoodie got damp. The gumboots kept my feet dry, which is good because I can't abide by damp socks. I made a 3 ingredient salad with those greens, and took it to a friends for dinner. We talked about the strangeness of the world, and make jokes about anything and everything. Deflation is a pleasant feeling, I'm not sure if it goes anywhere though.
There's a persistent sense in me now of wanting to make things happen, yet today it fell a little flat. I edited a piece of audio, and I did the first few steps of a drawing. Nothing took me over with passion, nothing called me name in sweet whispers. Some days nothing is the thing that takes our fancy, and we recede into stillness.
From that acceptance eventually comes words, or at least a willingness to start typing. So I sit down in the chair and I type, the words appear on the screen and it seems satisfactory. It seems like it means something to someone, or perhaps at least to me. It seems meaningful enough to post on to Steemit and receive an auto vote from a community where there is a quiet agreement that the things we do will enrich other peoples lives in some way. I can never guarantee that, but when I'm excited I have the sense that what I am doing is really important.
Today my self importance is not there, so I don't know how to gauge things.
So that is part of the hesitation, it's not knowing what value I have to offer. Often I reach this point of not knowing, where I really couldn't tell you what I have to offer, aside from my simple truth. A simple truth that can be talked around, but really is rather substance less. It's a spaciousness that I can gesture towards, but I can never fully describe it.
My simple truth is a quiet thing, and it makes its self known in my casual dissatisfaction for worldly things. On a day like today I feel as if the quest of my life is a vain pursuit, I feel calm and empty and uninspired. I feel as if I don't really mind what happens, although a part of me is also not OK about the change of pace. A part of me is upset that I would slow down and stop pushing.
A part of me is dying really, so it's bound to feel a little bit shit. When I watch that part slowly fade away, I know I'm the space that it all occurs in - but that is a constant re remembering.
I keep thinking I have got it, but what is there to get? And who is the getter? These are stories that come and go, we hardly remember what yesterdays fixation was - let alone two weeks ago.
Persistance
Letting Go
Expecting the Best
Without Expectations
Paying Attention
Being Grateful
Striving for More
Always Improving
Relaxing Into What Is
It's paradoxical. My head feels odd, and my feelings are unrecognizable. I sit here with strangeness flowing through my life, and try not to make a judgement about it one way or another. From that state of allowance I write.
I trust and I leave things be. When my strength returns I will resume my fanciful upward swimming in the dream of life. When my strength returns I will make fanciful pronouncements. When my strength returns I will be brave with what I share - just to see what happens when I confront my fears, just to see if anyone wants to talk about it.
Perhaps my strength will never return, because it was a false strength based on pride.
If that be the case then good riddance. I will build a new strength, using determination and patience - held together with my own inexplicable self certainty. I trust that life will break me as necessary, leaving behind something pure and nebulous which can easily take on new shapes and dimensions. I trust that each experience is a learning and an integration, and it exactly what is appropriate for right now.
I seem to remember something about things that seem bleak actually being very rich times. I've been past this point on the circle before, and I can hear the echoes as I spiral back around again. There's greater distance and space, there's greater room for grace.
It's that lack of certainty which is so appalling, yet somehow it is the dark rich earth that everything grows from. Can I be OK not knowing?
Learning consists in adding to one's stock day by day
The practice of Tao consists of subtracting day by day
Subtracting and yet again Subtracting
Till one has reached inactivity
But by this very inactivity
Everything can be activated
Those who of old won the adherence of all who live under heaven
All did so by not interfering
Had they interfered
They would never have won this adherence
Tao Te Ching
Namaste my Friends
