The edges of "I"
Creeping back into my online world, a post by Denis St-Pierre at Integral Naked inspired me to reflect on my own current now:
Where do "I" begin and where does "stuff" end?
I fall into these words of honest questioning, deep transforming. . . and I feel the weight of my own moment. I feel heaviness that tinkers on the edge of sadness, on the edge of uncertainty, on the edge of excitement, coated in faith and acceptance.
I walk through my new home. It's beautiful. I stop and pause, allowing myself to merge with a photograph that melts do deeply through my history into my being. I smile at my new acquisitions, the couch that holds me tight, the dining room table at which conversations will ignite, the alter of my roommate which expresses his soul, the books of inspiration that have accompanied us on our paths, the stones of connection that leaped into my hands at some sacred place, in some sacred moment, the new desk my computer sits upon, light solid wood that invites me to sit comfortably, writing, reading, connecting with a world beyond my fingertips. This is my home.
Where do "I" begin here? It is at this juncture, after the 'stuff' of the past has been left behind that I open to connecting with the 'stuff' of my present. I feel myself charging the things: my bed, my kitchen, my front door, my desk, my view, my yard, my neighborhood. I feel myself trying to find "I's" place in this new home. Creating Home.
Where do "I" begin and where does "stuff" end?
I wander around this new town. Oh wait, it's no longer a town, I live in a city now. I feel the familiarity and I feel the newness. There is so much that I don't know; places I've never visited, people I've never met, experiences I've never had. . .sadness on the edge of uncertainty on the edge of excitement, enveloped in faith and acceptance, in reverence of my own expression of divinity unfolding in the world.
How strange it is to be a human body moving through the world, interacting with other human bodies, with the contours of the land, with Essence that seeps in from every direction. How strange it is that we can be so invisible and anonymous and also so illuminescent and known. How strange it is to walk this edge of wondering, where do "I" begin and where does "I" end, asserting a healthy identity, feeling the edges of growing pains, watching and accepting as transition and transformation pours through me, inviting me deeper into the unknown.
Where do "I" begin and where does "stuff" end?
I fall into these words of honest questioning, deep transforming. . . and I feel the weight of my own moment. I feel heaviness that tinkers on the edge of sadness, on the edge of uncertainty, on the edge of excitement, coated in faith and acceptance.
I walk through my new home. It's beautiful. I stop and pause, allowing myself to merge with a photograph that melts do deeply through my history into my being. I smile at my new acquisitions, the couch that holds me tight, the dining room table at which conversations will ignite, the alter of my roommate which expresses his soul, the books of inspiration that have accompanied us on our paths, the stones of connection that leaped into my hands at some sacred place, in some sacred moment, the new desk my computer sits upon, light solid wood that invites me to sit comfortably, writing, reading, connecting with a world beyond my fingertips. This is my home.
Where do "I" begin here? It is at this juncture, after the 'stuff' of the past has been left behind that I open to connecting with the 'stuff' of my present. I feel myself charging the things: my bed, my kitchen, my front door, my desk, my view, my yard, my neighborhood. I feel myself trying to find "I's" place in this new home. Creating Home.
Where do "I" begin and where does "stuff" end?
I wander around this new town. Oh wait, it's no longer a town, I live in a city now. I feel the familiarity and I feel the newness. There is so much that I don't know; places I've never visited, people I've never met, experiences I've never had. . .sadness on the edge of uncertainty on the edge of excitement, enveloped in faith and acceptance, in reverence of my own expression of divinity unfolding in the world.
How strange it is to be a human body moving through the world, interacting with other human bodies, with the contours of the land, with Essence that seeps in from every direction. How strange it is that we can be so invisible and anonymous and also so illuminescent and known. How strange it is to walk this edge of wondering, where do "I" begin and where does "I" end, asserting a healthy identity, feeling the edges of growing pains, watching and accepting as transition and transformation pours through me, inviting me deeper into the unknown.
