Life is a journey… | the ramblings and writings of a guy who prefers to write on paper, but can't live without the internet…

To Hell With Silence

There is a part of me that has been silent too long.

In that silence, there is a feeling of security.  In that silence, there is a sense of safety.  In that silence, there is a sense of…nothingness.

Standing, blank, fierce and resolute in the ethereal majesty of the whole of existence washing past. Much as the buddha says we should remain stone and be unmoved by the world around us, yet that doesn’t quite seem right.
Standing here like this, surrounded by the world of sights and colors and sounds and people and glory and vanity and joy, sorrow, cars, cats, growth, life, death and the rest of the infinite insanity.
Standing here like this, protecting this tender heart, holding in and hiding away.
Standing here like this, trying desperately to disappear.
Standing here like this, wishing the world away.

I’m no longer standing in the middle of life. I’m holed up away alone, commanding this ship of flesh and bone to dance around and laugh and sing, finding that I mostly avoid tripping too often.

Trying to remotely control life, buried inside the shielding of self fulfilled isolationist tendencies, and I find that the prophecies are as foretold. I have become master of destiny, with such great vision as to see backwards and read prophecies written less clearly than Nostradamus himself, written by actions and words, stories untold and far too often important things left unsaid.

It can sometimes be far too easy to look back and see your footsteps in the snow, leading you to where you now stand.

It is often far too difficult to look forward and see where particular footsteps will take you, leading you to where you will eventually stand.

Standing there like that, wiser.
Standing there like that, more complete and completely involved.
Standing there like that, a better man, woman, child.
Standing there like that, surrounded by the warmth of friends and family.

Looking backwards, you see the path to the present.
Looking forward, you see nothing but the unknown.

Standing now, understanding more that it is about the present moment. The footsteps before are already placed, the footsteps to come are not guaranteed.
Standing now, beginning to figure out that you can live in each step. The footsteps are the path, even the ones you don’t make.
Standing now, recognizing that protecting yourself too much is just as good a way to get hurt as not protecting yourself enough. And through all of the things I’ve learned, I am starting to see how much more you learn unprotected and unguarded.

Taking a step, a real step, opening myself up, reaching out to the page, letting myself know that the words are still there. Allowing myself to be reassured, even when the words don’t make sense. I do remember learning that it’s not that the words make sense, it’s letting them out that is key. I’ve written plenty of things that don’t make sense, that don’t ring true, things garbled and jumbled and difficult to follow from one part to the next. But the important thing was never the words I was trying to put down anyway. The important thing was letting the words come, in that space of communion with self, higher self and the life of the spirit that breathes in all of us.

To hell with words that make no sense, and to hell with words that do.
To hell with holding them in, and to hell with letting them go.
To hell with the process, and to hell with the insanity.
To hell with self criticism, and to hell with the criticism of others.
To hell with fear, and to hell with security.

To hell with silence,
I am a writer,
and I have been silent for far too long…

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