Wandering in the winds
19 Oct
The only constant in life is change. My body and cells are always changing, evolving, growing, working, and dying. My mind and emotions shape-shift. It’s important to remind myself that none of them are mine. Nope. None of the things I love or hate about myself or my experience exist beyond this very moment. A sense of peace expands when I breathe in and let this feeling sink into my wavering bones.
Rooting is not easy for me. I prefer to drift and allow the universe to topple me over, tangle my hair, lift me above the strongest currents, and then sweep me away at high tide. I experience oneness in these dancing flowing moments, allowing to be. But a seed cannot blow in the wind forever, no no no, not if it wants to grow. I believe the universe wants to manifest itself in every possible way through me, through us. All our seeds are meant to grow. We are nearly weightless in this void. We are compact, efficient, and contain all the vital information to survive. Upon finding fertile ground we will have one chance to grow. Is it safe?
Fully exhausted, I’m struggling against the current. My roots don’t know where to go. I tell them, “dig deeper, away from those weeds, around these stones, stay, don’t be afraid,” but actually, I have absolutely no idea what the fuck I’m doing. To ground is to trust in stillness, and create something to be a representative for who I am and what I do. A pillar. I prefer myself as a whisper, a story, a burst of passion, a gentle touch. My fragile sprout chances death and dismemberment if those winds blow and I don’t let go.
How much of this is about ‘letting go’ and how much is about ‘running away?’ There are no answers, so I’ll live inside the question mark. I’ll allow my constant curiosity to observe these thunderous quaking cries, an unruly display. Fuck it. I’ll just breathe. Fear not, little seed. This is an effortless endeavor. I will trust that now is the time and this is the place, mostly because there is no use in thinking otherwise. Hold on tight.
MRumianowski
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