I’m feeling not like myself lately. Or possibly, feeling more and more like my Self. So much so that I feel estranged from this earthly edifice of thoughts and blood and bone and feeling that I am. I sit here, watching a white candle burn, a bulbous burn. I hear falling wax come to crystallize with a thud onto the caramel-colored coffee table. I smell frankincense, no myrrh. Fizzing flames and listening to Coltrane. I blow the flame before it catches onto the candlestick dress, that life comes to quiet. I do this within too. I’d like to think that I’m getting better at it. Who knows. Today’s the first day of the last month in the best and the worst year of my life thus far. I want to feel optimistic for 2021, I really do. And I am, most times… Today, I fasted on tea, chlorophyll water and golden mylk. Today I sang La’illaha’ilAllah. There is no god but God. I am cleansing, preparing. Becoming more of my light body. Getting clear, letting go, lots of release crying too.
I’m thinking always, but lately a lot about existence. Our macro, collective existence as a human race, how we have helped, how we have loved, how we have plagued and how we hurt…still. In the micro, I wonder if I make my existence that much more difficult by craving awareness, desiring knowledge, and feeling everything. I can’t help it. Since I was a child, I’ve always been keenly and quietly curious. Ever-presenting an outward joy and calm, while my interior peruses the shambles, communes with all of that energy, and questions the whys and the woes of this world, of this people.
It feels easier more now than ever to embody my Truth. That I am not solely of the Earth. But I am here, for reasons that I am still learning, and I must stay until God sees it to be so. There is both wonder and weight in this refuge of Truth. I feel the weight today. In thinking of my existence, I come back to this feeling that cascades in the skirt of darkness shadowing my truth: loneliness. How I’ve felt and continue to feel so damn lonely. I know I am never alone, but it’s there. I curl up at the thought of the vastness of that void, the feeling of unbelonging. Feeling like somthing’s missing, like I’ve been ripped away from a world that I knew and thrown into this ferociously foreign one. I struggled to get here, I tied the umbilical around the ankle in hopes of staying, but God said “You must go. You chose this.” That abyss is deep and undulating through many generations and lifetimes, this I am sure of. I am here now, in this vessel, on this earth. I have been through what I’ve been through and will endure what I must. It is all here. God is whole here. And perhaps in that same vast void is where Heaven also lies. I go there more often now, I feel it out, and notice that it is not all bad. For in my solitude is where I’ve found God time and time again. I recreate the cocooned womb and in it I search for the jewels that have been bestowed upon me. In that space cradling both Love and evil, Joy and pain, Heaven and hell. The power of choice is mine. I choose to blow out the flame or to let it burn. I choose to stay for a spell of darkness before I come back to Light with news of what I’ve found. Both are okay, necessary. God is always in flow. I let it burn today, until it got to be too much. So I blew, and I knew, that all is always well. That I am whole in any void that I may feel. I find more of God there. I find my Self there. I listen, and I’m re-minded that I am never alone.