Living in Mystery … and fear.

There is red bean soup from mother’s love in the early hours before dawn. I wonder why she needs to prepare this, and the only sensible reason is - out of love.

The silence in the air at home may be strange. It may be a projection of my constricted and contracted existence. I am afraid. I am afraid anyone asks me the same old question; and although this question is asked of me so many times, the frequency never lessens the pressure it carries. Now a hint of that strikes my nerves like a nail mercilessly on cotton.

Don’t ask me WHY. Don’t ask me why things happen in my life the way they happen. I lost the ability to answer, because i feel my left brain has shut down - rot, decayed or deranged. I search relentlessly for justification, for explanations, for comfort & assurance, for hope; and i have expensed my dignity, self-will, lots of energy and time.

The stars on the sky at my birth is one explanation; the lines on my palm and face is another. Psychics read into a dimension of me I can’t see; some flipped cards and showed me mystical figures who influenced my life. And dozens and dozens of books that serve to help people come closer to life and destiny. I sat facing myself alone while hours and hours tickled past; I journeyed through layers and layers of altered states.. all with promising glimpses into who I am.

Perhaps these are all part of my journey. Part of a journey to search for the forgotten memory of knowing Who I am. Perhaps Buddha and all awakened ones have gone through the same journey. Perhaps it does not matter how long we take to reach the destination, I just have to keep on it – the ways I know how, the ways I was shown how, the new ways I was to discover.

Don’t ask me WHERE I am and where I am heading. These questions are hurting. I lost the compass to my heart, I surrender the navigation to my soul. And the last time I heard, the answers and directions have no words. My disengaged head and ego could only nod and follow. I may continue to resist a thousand years, rebelling, banging and hitting myself against the wall.

But only what’s not seen that’s most important, they said.

Defies LOGIC? Defies logic?? 

I know.

 

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