Diving

 

It's in really trying times that our belief system gets challenged. The notions that held true and worked for you for so long crumble like a sand castle from a gust of wind. Your assumptions become scattered pieces, orphaned children unsure of what they are and how they will survive in the ever attacking world.

On days without a pattern my thoughts are sporadic and elusive. A book with too many pages on too many different topics: I know I'm somewhere in there but I can't find the exact location. The biggest paradox is that in this process of losing myself I actually find the true me that would otherwise be dissolved in a life race. I am finally given a chance to go so deep that it's beyond scary, strip myself of layers and really see what's at the core. But then again this depth in big doses is suffocating and I constantly need to emerge for a breath of oxigen, of my normal routine, of ordinary things happening and time flowing. Then I'm pushed under all over again until I find the answer to the question I haven't even formed yet.

On the outside "me" seems so small, my life is small too, but inside it's a huge massif that I don't even know where to begin decoding. What if I believe something is true and let it guide my life to later find out it was false from the beginning? I'm afraid to commit to any of the learned wisdoms and continue digging in hopes of finding one absolute, unquestionable knowledge that I will engrave into myself.

The dull pain that settled in me is there to stay for a little longer. I only pray for a break from emptiness, for a letter in the box, a word in silence, a sentence with my name in it.