this begins (and ends) with us.

(no pressure, like).

Photo by Kevin Fuentealba Mol

In my scary moments, I often fear I missed the boat. There are so many things I think I should be doing that I cannot get to -

because of the sheer amount

because of overwhelm,

because of cumulative exhaustion

and so many things that I thought I wanted that I’ve lost complete interest in, especially in light of the things I am learning about the world. A sobering aspect of getting older in this same body, in this same world, is that your wants become more streamlined. It has always been noisy, but some of the sound has floated away and out of reach - is it a relief? You fall out of alignment with some of your old desires… were they coping mechanisms? Were they numbing tools? You move toward more needful choices, such as the need for more purpose and truth, different kinds of love from the ones you have learned or were clinging to. You feel more of a pull towards sharing, healing, and interrogating a leaky, outdated value system, moving toward a place where your recent learnings might be developed.

Perhaps you are exhausted by your old ideas of individualism and empty gain. Maybe you got the job in the glass building and didn’t like it. Perhaps it is lonely on the grind. Maybe the table you wanted to eat at is attended by demons, not what they said it would be.

One of the most gut-wrenching realisations I am currently chewing on is this…