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In effort to relinquish myself from all self-imposed duties, I’m not too sure as to what I’m trying to accomplish at this point.
Originally, it was to stop the noise and find the truth that remains behind it all. Even now, I guess that’s still the point.
The thing is, I didn’t realize how much noise there was until I actually tried to remove it. Not even that, but there’s infinite noise everywhere that pours in even when you thought you’ve cleared it all.
It’s as if you keep trying to empty a bowl outside while it downpours day & night. It just gets filled back up.
Honestly, this all just seems like a metaphor for meditation, and in some way it is.
I learned the process of meditation before I learned anything about spirituality.
When I was 13, I purchased a thick book called Zen for Dummies.
There (though I didn’t read much of it at all), I learned the breakdown of meditation and the troublesome process of observing the incoming flow of thoughts and ideas all while practicing detachment.
I think this was a great starting lesson because to this day, I have grown adults telling me they can’t meditate because they have too many thoughts—but that’s part of it! The thoughts are part of it. Now what you decide to do with those thoughts is the beginning of meditation.
So back to my issue; the more I release myself of all my preconceived ideas and notions about my life, the more arise! Some I’ve forgotten about or abandoned a while back, all arising to the surface while I keep sending them away.
And though I’m not sitting cross-legged somewhere with my eyes closed, this practice may be even harder than meditation.
Imagine telling yourself over and over again for years, the same story about who you think you are and what your life purpose is. Then one day, you wake up and realize all of it was just that: a story.
And in effort to stop telling yourself that story, your mind begins to replace it with a new story—and a new story, and a new one.
Once you realize those stories also may not be true, you stop telling them to yourself and the cycle continues.
Stories upon stories, your mind looks for anything to grasp onto.
See, the ego, does not like not-knowing.
The ego, needs identity. It needs to know everything; who it is, what it’s known for, its hobbies and preferences—whatever, whatever.
Without that, it is practically nothing.
So, that’s the stage where I’m at; an almost impossible battle between relinquishing my self-imposed identity and walking a path of truth.
This “truth” I’m looking for is what emanates from my natural being;
the one that seeps from my pores the more I try to hold it back.
The one that will still rip its way out of my heart even after I thought I’ve rid myself of it all.
And maybe for me, that is writing.
I mean, look at me now, trying to hold myself back while still writing this to you.
I’ve been avoiding writing and it’s not because I don’t want to; but because I want to need to.
And I won’t know if it’s my truth until I stop telling myself I’m a writer—and that I need to write because that’s who I am.
I’ve spent too much time telling myself who I think I am.
I want my Soul to show me who I am.
I want God to show me who He knows me to be.
Not my ego, not my mind, not my peers.
So, in some way, it is meditation.
Because once all of those thoughts, all of those stories finish playing out, underneath it all
is pure Truth.
And that’s what I’m waiting for; Truth.