Cat Satsang

When dreams and nightmares are coming to the surface to be examined and you’re choice-less in that this is happening. You’re bitching and screaming and yelling – cursing the gods along the way. Everything theoretical that you thought you understood ‘spiritually’ becomes a reality introducing itself in the moment from the unknown. Not from the mental idea of what you thought it would be.

“Ancestral trauma” is an idea, but in reality, you have no idea how it’s going to present itself in your experience as a living, breathing thing. The words and labels are referring to this living thing and somehow along the way the worlds got reversed. The idea became primary as an abstract thing you think you’re experiencing. But the actual experiencing comes out of nowhere, sometimes blindsiding you, leaving you floored by what you thought you knew.

There is nothing ‘fancy’ about spirituality. Nothing obtainable. It’s not a luxury and it’s not a side gig. Not for long anyway. Because life comes and slaps you sideways. And all that you thought you knew about life goes out the window pretty fast. And so there is nothing to learning vocabulary and getting ideas about what life is.

“There is nothing ‘fancy’ about spirituality. Nothing obtainable. It’s not a luxury and it’s not a side gig. Not for long anyway.”

There is nothing more valuable than your actual experience. Not the potential of it and not the ideal of it. The actual, unadulterated, ground-level experience no matter how ‘unfancy’. Theories and hypotheticals won’t get you anywhere. But your actual experience of where you’re hitting walls and falling flat on your face is the bootcamp – spiritual bootcamp.

If the word ‘spiritual’ means anything to you, throw it in the garbage. If it’s anything like the idea of ‘ancestral trauma’ then it’s just an abstraction. Some vague understanding or notion which means nothing. The living, breathing thing of what you call ‘spiritual’ is an inquiry, somewhere to start.

If the word ‘spiritual’ means anything to you, throw it in the garbage.

What is ‘spiritual’? What does that word even mean to you? It’s tossed around left and right, but what does it actually mean to you? What is your experience of of what is ‘spiritual’?

Reaching a dead-end. Hitting a wall. Falling flat on your face. Having all meaning stripped from “your life”. Searching but not knowing what you’re searching for. Searching but not finding. Deep listening. Recognizing when you’re hearing truth but not knowing what truth is.

Yearning, longing, aching. Being turned inside out. Pain. Fear. Terror. Truth confronting lies. In you and outside of you. Lies confronting truth. In you and outside of you. Recognizing untruth. Recognizing the unbearability of it. Feeling desperate, shaky and achey. Trembling at wonder. Dumbfounded by the ‘mystery’.

Being pissed at the teacher. Mad at the world. Wanting to jump out of your own skin. Intense awareness of mortality. Not belonging anywhere. Not for long anyway. Being repulsive to and repulsed by. Discomfort is your only friend. Becoming your shadow. A skinned animal. A deeply wounded ancient child.

So wounded your face is contorted into a shape no one was meant to ever see. Not having the will to hide or the ability to mask. All masks falling off. Wandering in darkness. Losing hope and hopelessness. Bone deep rawness. Gut-wrenching authenticity. Despicable truth telling.

Losing linearity. Shifting perception. Beauty not in things. Wholeness that does not comfort. Symphony, harmony, infinity. Infinitesimal smallness. Bag of meat – ness. Heartbreak. Zero tolerance for bullshit and bullshitters. Corpse-style rest. Soul-level exhaustion. Monsters in rank closets gasping for air.

The end of the world. That is ‘spirituality’ to me.

beneath the saccharine ‘family’ surface.

The pressure has been mounting for years to re-integrate into the world as it was and as it is for our families. Their stance is like a thinly veiled threat; a hatred toward our audacity to go against their wishes, expectations, desires, demands and fantasies. To be true to ourselves.

Their saccharine smiles fail to cover their deep sense of disdain and repulsion toward all that is true, all that is straight-forward. They would rather we all lived a lie; happy in our monotony, with dead eyes and dirty tricks up our sleeves. They’d rather we used them for their money, their prestige, their power.

Their saccharine smiles fail to cover their deep sense of disdain and repulsion toward all that is true, all that is straight-forward. They would rather we all lived a lie; happy in our monotony, with dead eyes and dirty tricks up our sleeves.

The fact that we don’t enrages them. Belittles them. Makes them feel powerless. Powerless over their children. For all they really want is power over. To coerce. To blackmail. To corner. That, they call sanity, “normal life”. That, they worship, on both knees, they’re bowing to this God.

“Love me or else, motherfucker!“

The God they worship is a God they use to guilt-trip, to manipulate, to instill fear. To get what they want without having to do it themselves. Believe it themselves. Their words are empty. Their indifference – ghastly. Their persistence something akin to a nightmare.

“We miss you”, they say, but what they “miss” is their ability to have control over. To get you to fall in line, be an extension of their agendas, pristine masks, glittery cars and socially mummified personas.

Scratch a little beneath the surface and the real deviousness reveals itself. Say “no” a few times and you’ll see a whole other side, a whole other face. You’ll see a plethora of strategies unfold before your eyes. Love-bombing, gaslighting, bombarding, blackmailing, guilt-tripping, silent-treatment, hostility, re-writing history, outright threatening, competing, flying monkeys, sabotaging – all of it.

Scratch a little beneath the surface and the real deviousness reveals itself. Say “no” a few times and you’ll see a whole other side, a whole other face. You’ll see a plethora of strategies unfold before your eyes.

There is something to be said about keeping your eyes open for all of it. Not turning away. Not denying what you see. But seeing all of it, in it’s nasty, shitty, fucked up, nauseating, repulsive, soul-irking, heart-breaking, messy, vile truth of it. That’s a feat.

They’d rather you died than be real. They’d rather you fake for the rest of your god forsaken life than say a word of truth. God forbid any truth slips out into the room, you’ll see fucking 80 year old’s doing jumping jacks, handstands and cartwheels just to divert the attention and cover whatever truth managed to leak into their dense bomb shelter lives. A real wild performance.

God forbid any truth slips out into the room, you’ll see fucking 80 year old’s doing jumping jacks, handstands and cartwheels just to divert the attention and cover whatever truth managed to leak into their dense bomb shelter lives. A real wild performance.

If you want to see respectable, ‘by the book’ people turn into circus freaks in the blink of an eye, just breathe truth.

Acknowledging the raging animal within.

Fuck it mode is reaching your edge when you’re pinned against the wall; driven nuts with limitations that are beyond your control. Fuck it mode is when at that edge, you give yourself permission to do what you need to do, to say what you need to say for your own sake, for your own sanity, for your own well-being.

It used to be a self-destructive coping mechanism; drugs, sex, food, alcohol- without balance, without wisdom. It was self-annihilation in slow-mo because the pain was too great, the confusion was too profound, the misunderstanding wasn’t a gap but a chasm.

Cornered, gasping for air, fuck it is a survival mechanism that kicks in. Animalistic. Primordial. It throws out the ideal and puts you in touch with the raw, naked, breathing, shaking, hungry, wild, horny animal that is here, on this ground, in this cosmos. What it needs, what it really feels. Untamed without the etiquette of civility being superimposed on it.

The etiquette of being a civil is the task or burden of being human in a dysfunctional, out-of-touch, repressive, oppressive, suppressive society-culture- religion. The modus operandi of which is somehow balancing everything and everyone at your own expense, at the cost of your own sovereignty, sanity and inherent freedom.

Pretend to be something more “presentable” than the raging animal that you are inside, says the world you live in. That’s when fuck it mode becomes destructive because it becomes internalized as ‘bad’. Because the message being received either overtly or covertly from the external world is so.

Tuck away your raging animal in the darkest corner of the farthest room far, far away from our dull gaze because it’s “inappropriate” (you fucking weirdo – is what they want to say). And before you know it, before you get a say, down goes the raging animal in the dark abyss of your subconscious passively dictating your life in the unseen realms of your psyche.

Tuck away your raging animal in the darkest corner of the farthest room far, far away from our dull gaze because it’s “inappropriate” (you fucking weirdo – is what they want to say).

There you are, left fucking miserable, unknowingly self-annihilating (aka addiction), running amok because you’ve learnt that something that exists in you is unacceptable, shame-able even disgusting. Thinking you’re the only one with this raging animal because everyone else seems perfectly regal in their untarnished civility.

Well-adjusted and comfy in their make-believe paradigm of civility, etiquette and appropriateness. You’re left with nothing but echos from the collective reverberating in the seeming shallow emptiness of “your life”. “This is how things are done. What will people say. Have you lost your mind?! “…. and so on.

Acknowledging the raging animal within is the first step to rectifying the wrongness that has been done to this misunderstood holy creature. Which in its innocence believes it’s bad for its natural urges, humanness and inability to cope. Inability to do good, to be good, to act good; to be regal in shit, to sit pretty in the norm.

You’re left with nothing but echos from the collective reverberating in the seeming shallow emptiness of ‘your life’. “This is how things are done. What will people say. Have you lost your mind?!”

It’s misunderstanding is that it itself is wrong. When in fact the opposite is true. The wrongness is in the violent, suppressive world of normal where judgement is used like a personalized and collective weapon to keep everyone in check. To shame everyone who doesn’t comply into their corners of alienation and isolation where they can examine their wrongness and badness of non compliance and hopefully reassess whether going against the norm is ‘worth it’ – coming back to your senses is what they call it. The irony. 

But what if the raging animal was, is right. What if fuck it mode even in its reckless, destructive and hopelessly misguided form was actually a failed attempt to reclaim your power, sovereignty and zest for life. Not something to be deemed wrong but something to be recognized, upheld and included as an intelligent, natural, primal, raw, naked truth.

A truth which when suppressed, breeds all kinds of perversions and confusions wreaking havoc. The real “coming back to your senses” is coming back and acknowledging and reckoning with the raging animal who’s been cornered and made wrong for so long. This doesn’t have to be abstract or “out there” but as simple as asking that part of yourself to have a say, including it in small ways at first.

What’s important is its inclusion; acknowledging and honoring the intelligence and righteousness of the raging animal. This raging animal is not crazy. Is not wrong. But actually, sacred. This raging animal is a guide. It is here to help you. For you, to recognize when you need to throw away your fake politeness and get real about what you’re actually feeling. What your truth is. Regardless of what everyone else is doing. Regardless of what it “looks” like.

It’s living in accordance to what’s true for you and the only reason it’s seen as “rebellious” is because it goes against the insidious norm.

The one who’s got her shit together, puts herself first versus the raggedy one who’s forgets about herself. Alternating between one and the other. Judging one from the other. One’s better, one’s worst. One’s good, the other’s bad.

I’m not working out enough, I am cleaning too much. – This stress, this inner judgement of the “unawake me” versus the “awake me”. This is where you can really lose yourself in “spiritually” which in itself has become a “culture” – a thing.

Ping-ponging from the beta version to the 2.0 version is the stress, is the suffering. The one trying to create balance, become more sovereign, more independent – as a goal versus the one trying to leave behind the raggedy, over-extending, “conditioned” version of herself.

Grasping onto the new and improved, sovereign, worked out, healthy, balanced 2.0 version and averse to the raggedy, falling apart, needy one. This tension, the push and pull of it, the fear of falling back into something ‘old’, reverting back to “old” habits.

This idea of “the work” being undone. The idea of linearity and progress. I’m getting better, I’m feeling better, I’m getting somewhere. That goal-oriented mindset is the springboard for suffering. Especially when it comes to awakening, “shadow work”, all this stuff becomes something, becomes a “culture”, an interest, a “lifestyle” and thus bastardized.

That goal-oriented mindset is the springboard for suffering. Especially when it comes to awakening, “shadow work”, all this stuff becomes something, becomes a “culture”, an interest, a “lifestyle” and thus bastardized.

This isn’t the point. This idea of a new and improved version of myself needs to be seen for the stress and misguided springboard for suffering that it is. We’re not “getting” anywhere. Not trying to improve or prove anything, let alone hold onto being improved and avoid and deny anything that falters from the “new heights” we’ve reached.

This is hokum. Bullshit. La la land. A new false dream. A new egoic fantasy more dangerous than the simpleton ego which knew nothing of spirituality. Ego 2.0 – insidious and misguided at best. Don’t go down this road. There’s nothing there except more of the same bullshit with ‘higher’ stakes.

Your heart closes with this for a reason. The one who can’t get her shit together is there for a reason. She’s not something to be denied or cleaned up quick or worked on for good riddance. This isn’t the point, to be all polished, to be this as opposed to that. No. This is delusional.

There’s an integrity that doesn’t shun older versions or seek newer versions. It doesn’t play these games. This integrity is not contrived. It’s not something, it has no ambition to speak of. It knows nothing that is sacred and nothing that is not sacred. It’s like dirt. “Dogshit awareness”.

This integrity is inherent in you. It’s the part the calls out funny business when it sees it. It’s not hoity-toity. Not elevated. Not up there with the angels and luminous beings beyond your reach – whatever your reach is.

There’s something to bringing this completely down to earth. Not calling on anything holy. Because in that there’s a distinction. The moment you see a tree as holy, the tree becomes separate. It becomes a thing of the “beyond” and you become this lowly sure-as-hell unholy thing outside of it.

So drop this nonsense, bring it down to earth. Don’t shy away from it. Because you’ve seen the dangers of calling things holy and getting carried away with language making things bigger and more grandiose than our understanding. Keep it simple. Keep it on the ground-level. Nothing fancy.

There is no emergency. No reason to leave yourself. No reason to stop being kind to yourself. Everything is an opportunity for greater kindness and greater rest. There is no urgency. No reason to be uprooted.

Everything in your conditioning screams otherwise. But it’s an old nightmare. A trauma loop. A place for pause if pause is possible.

There’s no need for panic. No need for rush or haste. It’s okay to let the whole world pass you by. To let the day come, go and wash away on your shore.

This isn’t about getting it ‘right’. Or being a really good person. Or saying the exact right thing.This is about letting what’s here be here, what’s showing up in you, no matter how ugly, how sacrilege, how unbearable.

It’s okay to let the whole world pass you by. To let the day come, go and wash away on your shore.

Giving yourself the gift of non-judgement, kindness, acceptance and belonging if only to yourself. If only to this moment. If only to this pain, this pain that keeps showing up. Calling, aching, longing to be welcomed. This pain will break you open.

Being able to rest in the midst of all circumstances is a gift, is the point, is a birthright. Not a mistake. Not abhorrent. But absolutely right. Absolutely needed. Absolutely it.

Come back to yourself. You don’t owe anybody anything. Neither does anybody owe you – there’s freedom in that. Belong to yourself first and foremost. Bring ease to social anxiety. Sounds paradoxical but it’s possible. Bring ease into communication and give space around the receiving of and responding to.

The anxiety of trying not to make anyone feel bad is something to feel into not follow up on. It’s okay to take your time and really sense into what feels most true for you instead of trying to mitigate their feelings or your imagination of their feelings. The pressure of that is too overwhelming for your system.

Notice the patterns, that’s what this is about, not about anything else. Don’t be a hero, don’t be spiritual, don’t be nice and don’t be too cool either. Don’t cover up your gut feelings by spiritually gaslighting yourself. Or your natural inclinations by shaming yourself. You’re here for a reason. You know what you’re about.

Don’t be a hero, don’t be spiritual, don’t be nice. Don’t cover up your gut feelings by spiritually gaslighting yourself.

Stay true to what feels most joyful to you, most supportive of you. You’re not here to support anybody else. That’s not your job. Inquire into what feels most safe, what feels most curious, what feels most supportive, most uplifting to you.

What doesn’t feel like an obligation. Enough obligations. Enough acting from obligation, “duty”. We’ve had enough of that. Bring things backs to you. This is about what’s most loving, kind, supportive, true, safe and real for you. You’re here for you.

Not everybody gets access to you. Not everybody gets access to your time. It’s not a given. You’re not available in that sense. You’re not open in that sense. Your openness and availability is to the moment, to yourself, to what’s here prior to what “social” expectations demand of you.

This is a deep dive into you. And a sinking into what is prior and kinder to any expectation or any demand – even ones you have of yourself. It’s not about the harshness or challenge or your capacity to overextend yourself and “bear it all”.

No.

When you’ve been conditioned to believe that you are betraying others or hurting them by being true to yourself then this is the result. Constantly overextending yourself to make others feel ‘comfortable’, feel at ‘ease’ with your choices, your decisions, your actions, your words.

As if they have some kind of ‘final’ say (and many have in the past) as to what sort of person you are if you betray their expectations or their judgments of you. And so you feel imprisoned because you fear the judgment of the other. Your ability to be open becomes compromised at the expense of yourself.

This is codependency. That’s not to say that anything goes and you should overlook slights that feel iffy, but to feel free in your relating with another is to be unleashed from the tightness of codependency. To be able to relate from a place that’s not tight, that’s not holding on with a million and one unspoken expectations.

Relationship dynamics are born out of these constructs, out of these expectations and out of these judgements. Roles are assigned this way; leader, follower, giver, taker. Someone who’s ‘allowed’ to be selfish and another who’s not. And a prison is formed and you become bound to a form of relationship born of obligation not freedom.

It’s a radical change when your allegiance shifts from the ‘other’ to yourself. Whether the ‘other’ is another person or a group or a social agreement or societal pressure or a person of authority- it’s all the same, it’s other.

My parents spent their whole lives trying to escape each other, escape where they’re from and escape their circumstances. They used their jobs for this purpose. Traveling from one country to the next, never being able to settle down. Once they did settle down, all hell broke loose. They could not bear to be in one place together with no prospects ahead of them. Years of escapism and of issues un-dealt with exploded in their face.

They also could not leave each other. They did not have the courage and were too invested; the ‘time’ they’d put in together was viewed as a literal investment and the thought of it amounting to nothing was unbearable – especially to my mother. There may have been love there too, but none they could own up to or even express. Expressing love was seen as a weakness, a point of exploitation between them.

And so, there was no love between them – visible to the naked eye. It was a power struggle from the very beginning; each battling their own demons and strategizing how to out-maneuver the other. The notion of love in the family was a distant dream – almost like a fairy tale; both seemed to view it with a decent measure of disdain. Love was used as a means for exploitation, each had to harden up even more to be able to survive the relationship.

The notion of love in family was a distant dream – almost like a fairy tale; both seemed to view it with a decent measure of disdain. Because it was used as a means for exploitation, each had to harden up even more to be able to survive the relationship.

By the time my father was reaching the end of his life, he was stripped of his physical ability to move about and in that was a great humbling and a breaking down of all his defenses and strategies. Everything he had spent his life gathering and procuring meant nothing and all he wanted at this point was love – a tender heart. But seldom could he find one.

It was too late; too much of a mess. My mother could not see the visible tenderness that was radiating through my father’s eyes. In his fragile state, his heart was broken and a stark sense of regret and disbelief colored his days. Most of which he could not express as he was heavily conditioned to keep it all in – “be a man”.

He was the head of a very big family; children from two wives with generations between them. His first wife died young, he later married my mother and would struggle all his life to reconcile his old family with his new family.

He was very ambitious, very capable – he wanted to evolve as a human being even if it expressed it self superficially by “climbing the social ladder”or gaining prestige. After all, it was a matter of survival – the only way to feel safe and to ensure a sheltered life according to the cultural paradigm.

His old family was very possessive of him. His children and grandchildren could not bear him being another’s and they rejected at their core the fact that his new family was a reality. And so they always kept him in check. To the point where he also became wary and convinced himself that his new family was not really his “real” family. Not to be included, not to be accepted in any real sense but only superficially.

This all became painfully obvious the first time he was sent to the hospital after a brain hemorrhage. One would expect that family would come together under such dire circumstances, but the opposite was true. The very real poisonous rift that was fed throughout his lifetime between old and new became ever so clear.

One would expect that family would come together under such dire circumstances, but the opposite was true. The very real poisonous rift that was fed throughout his lifetime between old and new became ever so clear.

A sudden shift in attitude where the bare bones reality of the relationships became exposed. In many ways, this is the gift of very sudden circumstances – although it may not feel like it. The power dynamic changed and all of a sudden the superficial inclusion of the new family went out the window. The reality of “us and them” imposed itself.

The sad truth is that none of this could be reconciled by the time he was bed-ridden and just wishing for some real company. They say, ‘you reap what you sow’ – this was very much the truth. Much of his life was spent sowing this very poisonous rift whether through his silence, his ambivalence or even indulgence of a very sinister rejection of his own ability to move on. This division between old and new became his very own nightmare which came back to haunt him.

My heart broke for my father because I loved him dearly. Underneath this facade and unnecessary rift was a very sweet and genuine young boy. I came to know this boy more and more toward the end of his life. This boy needed love. May it be so that you know that you are deeply loved father. May the precious moments we shared and the connection of love between us last for life eternal. May I come to see you not just as a father but as the gentle soul that you are deep down; the life-loving, sweet and tender truth of who you are.

When the whole world seems to be coming and going and you’re stuck in the same god forsaken place. This is a kind of reality that is seldom spoken of except in negative terms. Stuck in a rut with all the efforts to get out of the rut and the self-beration for not being able to. 

The rut is not just a physical rut but something that overarches all aspects of your life -that which can be spoken of and pointed to and that which cannot. A major trait of the rut is no movement, no window of opportunity seeming to present itself. You’re Cornered. Squeezed. You’re Unable with a capital ‘U’. Everything around you is dying , decomposing -including yourself – and you can’t will yourself out of the corner, out of the rut. 

The reality of “normal’”  becomes almost like a distant dream – a place where life is happening for everybody else around you but not for you. They’re all making decisions, coming and going, getting married, reaching crossroads, overcoming etc. – all part of the normal narrative which includes movement.  A narrative which ‘you’ were once a part of.

Part of you remembers this narrative, this way of life like a distant dream. Somehow, somewhere and without warning this narrative dropped away in a seeming abyss beyond the reach of your grasping arms. And you found yourself in a new reality of no possibility, no movement, no ability – none of which can be seen or measured by you or anyone else.

Somehow, somewhere and without warning this narrative dropped away in a seeming abyss beyond the reach of your grasping arms.

So, what do you do? How do you reconcile your life with that of the seeming norm? The old narrative of transformation and movement and evolution. How do you not fall into a deep despair that either you or Life has failed – has made a grievous error. How do you not feel like something has gone terribly wrong and hate your life for it, hate Life for it, hate yourself for it – all the same.

You can’t. All of the above is a rite of passage. This questioning, this falling, this despairing, this grieving is the kind of thing that irks on a soul-level. There’s no way around it. It tugs and tears at a very human need to want to live. To want to be out there, doing things, living, moving, making changes where need be, transforming, etc. – “living your life”, “exercising your autonomy”.

And the torture of watching others “live their life”; come and go, do, be and climb and all of it – is something to be reckoned with. Something to acknowledge and recognize for the torture that it is. The torture of comparing this rut to all that is not the rut- which just happens to be the whole world in action.

That is to say that this rut is something to be acknowledged, spoken of, recognized even honored – in all its agony, with all the despair, and with the amount of patience and resilience needed to be able to withstand it. The wisdom needed to be able to distinguish between “normal” transformation and the kind of transformation that happens in the rut is a distinction of value.

This rut is something to be acknowledged, spoken of, recognized even honored – in all its agony, with all the despair, and with the amount of patience and resilience needed to be able to withstand it.

This value being the need to be reminded to not look outside yourself in comparison to what “normal” is. To understand the parameters and traits of the rut so that you’re not living in the torture of comparing that which cannot be compared, cannot be understood, cannot even be conveyed to others.

That which has no visible features, no outline – to be able to point to it and say, “I am going through this, this is what’s happening to me”. Because on the outside, nothing is happening. Nothing is visible to the onlooker and especially the onlooker coming from the old narrative of normal and everyone “living their life”.

This distinction, this breaking-off point where you fall off the face of the earth and are unable to reconcile this with that. This place, this point is a holy, grace-filled, undoing. And it does not look like you want it to look. And it does not feel like you want it to feel. And it offers nothing to which the old narrative can look and distinguish as “progress”, as “winning”, as “achieving”, or even as “living”.

This distinction, this breaking-off point where you fall off the face of the earth and are unable to reconcile this with that. This place, this point is a holy, grace-filled, undoing.

The whole notion of “living my life” comes to an end here. It falls off the face of the earth and you along with it. And there’s no coming back from that. This is a prayer answered and in this answering all that you once knew, the old narrative with everything and everyone in it, dies. And you die to everyone.

Acknowledge this rut, acknowledge the hardship of it- don’t make it an unknown enemy. When you ask, “how is waking up to truth even possible here?”, it’s possible and this is what it looks like. It looks like this.

Everything is solvable. Everything is possible. What you’re most afraid of is not the circumstances but that you would betray yourself. You would abandon yourself in the midst of the circumstances. That you would doubt yourself and as a result be susceptible to the hypnosis of the old nightmare.

The old nightmare being the old world, the world of self-betrayal and self-abandonment where you’re putting others first. And you’re lost even to yourself; you can’t get your bearings. That’s the nightmare. The nightmare of not finding your “No”, your “I’m leaving now”, your unboundedness, your boundaries, your choice-making ability. That hypnosis.

That hypnosis is not to be dismissed for it does have a power. It does have momentum. It does have a hold in that its’ hypnotizing, sleep-inducing power comes from the fear of standing alone in face of the majority. The illusion being that the majority seem to agree and you stand alone in your “disagreeability”. That’s where your susceptibility is.

The illusion being that the majority seem to agree and you stand alone in your “disagreeability”. That’s where your susceptibility is.

Standing alone in the face of the so-called “norm”. That’s the fear. The fear of having your truth overridden by the majority, overridden by the “norm”. But once you recognize that you have the ability within you not to cave to that illusion, it’s like you reclaim your power. You reclaim your freedom in being willing to stand alone come what may.

Do not cast harsh judgment on yourself for the circumstances you are in. It is so. It is meant to be so. You are choice-less in this. You cannot forgive what your heart is not ready for forgive. You cannot will relationships into existence when they are dying. You can only acknowledge that bare bones of reality within yourself of what’s here and what’s true for you.

Relationships that are dying or have been dead for a long time need be left alone to decompose. It is not ‘your’ doing. Your heart breaks at the fact that you are and will be misunderstood. And that you’ll stand alone in this. But the reality is you are alone. You are alone in everything. You cannot will yourself out of your aloneness because it’s the fact. The only fact.

Relationships that are dying or have been dead for a long time need be left alone to decompose.

The trouble comes when the illusion of the togetherness of others creates sadness in you. It highlights the feeling of alienation which has always been there as long as you can remember. You cannot overcome this feeling of alienation on the surface level of life by trying to resuscitate dead relationships. Just as you cannot resuscitate a corpse. It doesn’t work. It’s empty. You know and feel it to be so.

Lean into your aloneness even in all its seemingly barren landscape. Lean into the desolateness, the alienation, the pain of feeling misunderstood and the hopelessness of ever being understood. That’s the path – downward and inward not outward. It’s not a mistake. But it is hard to believe that when the desolateness and emptiness hits you in their coldness and deep sorrow. 

You cannot overcome this feeling of alienation on the surface level of life by trying to resuscitate dead relationships. Just as you cannot resuscitate a corpse. It doesn’t work.

It is only in meeting these things in yourself or allowing them to be because they are – that you come to see that true intimacy is the ability to be in solitude and accept the solitude of others. True intimacy is the ability to let space and solitude take over the idea of relationship with another. True intimacy comes when you can be comfortable in your aloneness without the agitation of having to relate or take another into consideration mentally. True intimacy is when the other is no longer a burden to your own solitude.