To Breathe Through the Void

I was once sold on the illusion that I was going somewhere, convinced that life had a set destination. Racing towards a finish-line hidden on the other side of the horizon, I would have been smart to sacrifice the moment for whatever primitive desires I believed myself to crave, for the reward would come to he who finished first. I guess I got tired of running. The human experience doesn’t seem so linear anymore, and perhaps that’s purely a function of having lived just barely long enough to see myself in the same place more than a few times. The same places come back to me, I don’t necessarily return to them, but the places are not truly the same. They’re not better, nor are they worse, they’re just different. What’s changed is not the location; not the outside world. Neither is it me. There is only less smoke in the hall of mirrors that is this universe I’ve awoken to. Every lap around the sun I can see myself a little more clearly within this labyrinth of reflections, and the world responds. As I put down the sword, kick off my shoes, and soften my gaze, the reflections grow kinder, more compassionate, more beautiful, and more innocent. I’m slowly learning to fall in love with the great all of being. I see more smiles and more embraces; more understanding and more authenticity; more color and more texture. I see God, the infinite dancing Tao, shining through the walls, through the carpet, through the wrinkles in my skin. I know I’m never alone as I learn to be here among all these eclectic faces that are none but my own, forever swimming in this ocean of symbols, all breathing the same message of a cosmic yet simple love. It is all self, and then it is no-self. What remains is just a beautiful feeling; a universal sigh with no need for resolution.

Yet within this singular exhale of all experience, I still find a profound sadness. I miss the water. I long for oneness with the waves. Struggling to drink from the cups before me, I grow doubtful that I’ve actually learned anything. I’ve learned to pray, but not to swallow my fear. The valley spirit never dies, but where is she? I think I need her, though maybe that’s just the smoke. All I can do is continue to breathe through the void.

Loved ones ask me how I’m doing. The answer doesn’t matter, and quite sincerely, I do not know what the answer is. However, I know that I will be okay, and after another lap around the sun, a little more light will pour in. I am grateful for every moment, even when they hurt, and I am glad to be feeling, even if I don’t smile back.

MEDIUM ARTICLE