There are a lot of new subscribers to my blog and I feel honoured to have you here. That somehow something in my writings has touched you enough that you wish to continue to read my musings is inspiring to me.
I have been wanting to write something for a while, to add to this space of thoughts that I created and to contribute something that may have meaning.
And then… my reality has been a crushing sink into an existential angst. What started as joyful journey of growth and exploration has tested and pushed me deeper into the ways my own mind creates suffering, and I have suffered.
It is funny as the world has been incredibly kind to me, it has shown me abundance, has introduced me to amazing and inspiring individuals, has given me shelter… and yet I still suffered.
What has been playing through mind as I wander in an exhausted fugue of traveling and couchsurfing is to question the point of any of it. I have been sinking into what has been a challenging inquiry, an inquiry that has been asking repeatedly “what’s the point?”. What is the point… of any of it. Oh I may offer or be offered a number of platitudes that may ease my soul and paint a smile on my face, yet do I really believe such sayings, believe them deep in my core?
To let go of all my constructed ideas about the meaning of life and to continuously and painfully bury myself into the question of what is the point?
It would be easier to not confront this question and in some ways I’m sure that I could divert my attention and yet my disposition has been to dwell into the realm of feelings. To dive deep, like a cave diver, without much certainty of what I might find. All I have is an insatiable compulsion to feel fully whatever it is my experience, often past the point of what I might call healthy. Sometimes there are nuggets of gold in the depths, insights that bubble up when I truly embrace not-knowing and often found in the darkest of places.
I am fascinated by the potential of growth and evolution that we human beings seem to have. That somehow by opening myself, by allowing the very stuff of who I think I am to be malleable, that there is a real and genuine capacity to change. This is truly amazing.
Change and growth, what wonderful and strange possibilities we have… a feature of our lives we have changed as we grew from infants to children to teenagers to adults and then for many of us we stop. We become fixed in our ideas and beliefs about the world. We think we know the answers and they root us in place. What was once a fluid and dynamic ability to shift and expand becomes rigid and closed.
What is the nature of change? What is it that allows us to change and grow? To become more elegant, more efficient beings?
These past months for me, as I hinted above, have been some of the most challenging I have yet experienced… and I have grown. The very nature of my experience in this world seems somehow fundamentally different to what it once was. At times I am astonished as I feel what it is like to be me and it feels… different, new, matured (at least slightly).
I have been to workshops and retreats, more than I think was necessary and the ideas presented have swirled within me some sticking and becoming new inquiry while others spat out in rejection. Not all ideas are good ones, yet many are worth trying out at least for a little while.
This has been a dark night of the soul for me. As what once held me close in an embrace of comfort in an idea of what God is for me, has been released. The absence of this reassuring presence of belief is deafening and frightening. It feels alone, as if I have been deserted. And yet… in the moments I relax the devastation that I may have no reason for existing, a sense of peace fills me. A rightness that something is happening, I just don’t know what. A dark night may birth a new day.
All I have to offer here, as I continue my investigation into what is actually meaningful for me, is that change does not come from thinking about it.
As I look at the nature of my thoughts, there is a particular sense of fixation that thoughts have. They go round and round and perpetuate some sense of being that I have taken on as being important to me to uphold. If I ignore the thoughts, allowing them to swirl in their cacophony of sometimes madness there is a texture of feeling behind. There is something pre-thought from which this experience upwells. Allowing this to be there, without fixation, without attachment… with only an open curiosity gives it space to expand and stretch. To consider something beyond what it is I have come to believe. There is new possibility for what are my beliefs other than information presented to me and adopted within my identity. None of it has any validity beyond the way in which it gives me some sense of continuity as an identity.
Change is possible and in many ways a natural function of being, it seems to be only impeded by ourselves and our ability to solidify around a sense of self and the importance of such being recognised as us.
What if we were to let that go?