On Patience and Letting Go of Control.

Can we let go of trying to control? Let go of our impatience and anger and to be more trusting of life. To see that life can be simple and life can be good and that we can be happy. That we can put down that which ails us. Those moments in which we were robbed of our dignity, our honour, our pride. That those who disrespected us, slighted us have moved on and yet we live with what they did and continually hurt ourselves believing they suffer when in fact they do not. That our resentment is indeed like drinking poison and expecting the other to die. That our anger and our bitterness serve no one. That in being bitter we do a massive disservice to ourselves and to the world. That our art is trapped within us, our symphonies, our beauty. Simply because we refuse to let go. Because what is better than what we have. Even if what we have is killing us. That we refuse to accept that drinking this poison of anger and bitterness is killing us not the other.

Can we let go of trying to control?

Let go of our impatience and anger and to be more trusting of life.

That we deserve to be happy, and that we want to be happy, but we are so scared to be amongst those who are happy. They scare us and yet they are not that unlike us and that they too feel pain and suffer but unlike us they do not hold on. That they let go and that if we would but allow ourselves for a single moment to just look at this pain. However terrifying that may be that we may find a possibility. A possibility that tells us that maybe just maybe we may be able to put this pain down. Overwhelmed by this thought we run away and hide. And then that call again from life and again we go to that which scares us and look upon it and again the idea that we could let this go. And again, we hide and again we visit. We visit our pain, we open that pandoras box and stare upon our pain and misery. Our shame our guilt and we breathe. We realise that we can take our time. That this is not a race. Healing never is.

So now we are joined by another possibility that we can take our time. That once were there was impatience and panic that the seed of patience is now sown. So again, we visit the monsters, again we sit with our shame and slowly but surely the light enters the wound. What was in darkness is illuminated. What was crooked is made straight and sitting in that pain, that shame and that emptiness we experience release. A release so pure that no idea of pain remains. No idea of us remains. It was all a dream and that as we wake and stare into the light. We see we are in fact meeting ourselves. That this is who I am. One without another. That this was a story. It was a dream but now I am awake only to realise that there has only ever been wakefulness. That this story that this play simply appears in this singularity. That one leads to the other which leads to the other which is always in the NOW.

That we are free. That we are home. The story seen through. The illusion seen for what it was. Nothing more than a beautiful lie.