I was afraid before, to share, or speak in general about things I felt I had no “real” knowledge about or had anything to say additionally to. But there is no longer any fear here surrounding that. Everything seems to already point to this, there is nothing additional or “new” to say. I still don’t know anything. I’ve never done anything. Even though it has often felt like I have. What a relief. This can just be freely what it is. And right now, it’s just a followed impulse.
I’ve been moved like the wind. Asking seemed to have happened, and then things were heard, quietly at first, ever growing louder and louder. Things were let go, others seemed “taken away”, but nothing was ever lost. Somehow, everything has always been a constant giving and giving and giving. All things, an open invitation. An undergirding, eternal, infinite love. Always truly there, permanently wrapping around, infusing every fiber of being-ness. Pain occurs, and tears may come, but there is no suffering. Often, laughter of what was once considered “serious”. Full of joy. Everything, full on, all inclusive. Perfectly given, perfectly wanted. Every struggle, laugh, “loss” - incredibly wanted. Every piece - reminding, showing, laughing with and at me, screaming to me, who I really am. There is nothing to chase, nothing to escape from. There is no more, no less. Nothing at stake. No where to go and nothing to find. Life is play, basking in the richness of all there is. Total undeniable freedom. So unconditionally free it could deny its own freedom. The best play and story ever written. Which turns out to be no story at all. Only the infinite. Only love. Only all there is. Belonging to no one.
✴️ Also on Micro.blog