In a strange, strange place...

I am not those words. I am not the shouts and names. I'm not the awful things spat at me like flavorless gum. I am not the punches or the bruises they cause. I am not the blood running from my nose. I am not under their control. I am not theirs. Inside me is always a part that no one can touch. I am me. I am my own, and inside me is the universe. I can be whatever I want. I can be anyone. I don't have to be afraid. I can let go of that pain. And when it comes reeling back, as the world tries to bully me again, I don't have to revert back to that scared little boy. I can be strong and react differently. I owe that to myself. I deserve to not be scared anymore.

Don't fall, it's not that high...

Take it like a taker...

Who is this little, this pathetic, this ridiculous boy? They laugh at him, and also weep; for he is humanity, he is the universe. He makes mistakes. He is an egoist. He is imperfect - physically, morally, and mentally. Coffee disagrees with him; injustice causes him anguish; anxiety interrupts his sleep, causing in his dreams falls of cliffs and the all-dreaded thunderstone; his ears ache; his nostrils, always somewhat clogged; sporadic headaches. Nevertheless, he struggles. Why? To avoid the making of mistakes, and to know himself. Let him cry out as he will, let him protest his skepticism ever so loudly, he is at heart, like every other, a believer in perfection. 

Spiritual malaise. Lost connection with nature, with the family. lost connection with the spirit. What is left? The self. Identity. Everyone runs from pain toward pleasure, but when they get there only to find more pain, what happens then? You cannot outrun pain. Because when you're born you are like a single drop of water, flying upward, separated from the one giant consciousness. You get older, you descend back down. You die, land back into the water, become one with the ocean again. No more separated. No more suffering. One consciousness. Death is like a happy return, like coming home.

Weren't for the wind...

There goes my mind racing...

If I could turn back the clock,

I'd make sure the light defeated the dark,

I'd spend every hour, of every day,

keeping us safe.

I'd climb every mountain,

and swim every ocean,

just to be with you.

Take me to the garden of Eden...

I think I came to understand the purpose of this thing we call life. But now I must let a breeze pass between this learning and my reaction. I need to stay calm and not rush into it like I usually do. I'll let a quiet litany slow my heart before excitement enters. I'll take a long walk and try to gather myself - still not really myself after recent blunders. I'll try to breathe and stay in the moment. I'll try to catch it. My entire life is made up of memories and the smallest piece of right now. Here it is: my purpose is to find an empty space and use it. Here comes the breeze. I mustn't forget to breathe.

Bearer of unconditional things...

The next thing I know...

I am trying to see the beauty in what is here for me right now. I'm trying to look around me and see beyond the mist of anxiety that blinded me for the past month. I want to get back to being calm and centered. Appreciating the times I didn't have to deal with the burdens of disappointment and the frictions of deep conflict. Today feels heavier than most and tomorrow might too. There is uncertainty lingering in the air, still. But I have hope. I am slowly walking forward. I have strength. Those are two things I can control. I will get past all of this unknown. Step. Step. Step. 

No one noticed...

Life is like the sky, like the empty sky. It has no boundaries so it cannot be defined. You cannot say where it begins and where it ends. It is eternal, it is infinite, yet it is right in this place, just in front of you. You cannot possess it, but there is no way for it to disappear either. It is there. It is always there. You have to drop your rush, your hurry, your ideas to go somewhere, to reach, to become, to be this and that. You have to stop becoming. And it is there; you cannot lose it.

And so taking the long way home through the busy streets of the capital, I slow my pace down. It doesn't come naturally. My legs are programmed to trot briskly and my arms to pump up and down like pistons, but I force myself to stroll past the crowds and pavement cafes. To enjoy just being somewhere, rather than rushing from somewhere, to somewhere. Inhaling deep lungfuls of air, instead of my usual shallow breaths. I take a moment to just stop and look around me. And smile to myself. For the first time in a long time, I am trying to, quite literally, smell the coffee.

Look at me, I'm dreaming...

Vem, da so druge poti,

tiste, ki vodijo k blišču 

in do stvari.

Da ne more vsak, 

vsak pravi ti,

soj zlatih luči je le usoda izbranih ljudi.

A danes mi je tukaj lepo, 

ko te gledam je jasno nebo.

Mislim le lepe misli, 

naj bo, kar bo.

Živim za trenutek,

naj gre vse, kar je bilo.

No longer alone, here is my hand...

It is not him who seeks the way, but the way which seeks him. That is why he is faithful to it, even while he stands waiting or wholly broken down, so long as he is prepared and acts the moment he is confronted by its demands. Sooner or later, he will have to decide. Whether he wants to drift with the current or whether he wants to lay down his own path. Nobody in this world really knows where he is headed. Yes, of course, you will find people who say they know how to live. But even they can’t answer where their lives would lead. So, he must decide. What is more important to him? How? Where? Or why?

Find light in my eyes...

No one tried to read my eyes...

Skoraj vse, za kar sem kadarkoli skrbel,

se nikoli ni zgodilo.

And there I was again, lying on my floor, crying again. Shaking. Searching for inner strength and coming up empty. My eyes burned, and my mouth was dry as I sucked on air that seemed to keep getting thicker and harder to breathe. I tried to calm myself down using my old tricks, but nothing seemed to be working. So I ended up leaning my forehead against the door, feeling defeated and wishing the universe would come for me in all his silky, black glory. There has to be a way out, right? A way forward, clear of all this murky air and fog. A path that leads me back home?

More hurt than I dare to admit...

Broken every boundary...

Standing at the gate,

ready to meet my fate.

I won't run, 

the guilt is mine.

Too long denying all my crimes,

face what I deserve,

here comes judgment day.

You can hear the drop of a pin...

I am doing an exercise that could maybe calm me down. I just won't stop writing until I am at least three pages deep, and I'll breathe heavily as each word drips from me. Recent events have shaken me to my core, and I need to find a way to pick up the pieces and grow back into something resembling a person. I have disappointed the people I love. By not being strong. By letting fear guide me. And once all this is over. Hopefully soon. I will admit my weaknesses. I will apologize for them. And I will work on rebuilding myself into someone worth having. 

I am both ashamed and angry. I thought of myself as someone who could handle these types of pressures. Yet my mind is in such intense overdrive, conjuring fantasy after fantasy, replaying everything a thousand times. What could I have done differently? What could I have changed? And more devastatingly, what can still go wrong? The innumerable possibilities have paralyzed me. And I feel responsible for not being able to predict them correctly. The very mechanisms that have kept me sane over the years are now working against me. There is no way to calm the storm if I am the storm. And the lightning and thunder are just the beginning.