Unfolding a life long practice.
It's like, every day, we can enter a new paradigm.
I could not conceive the place that I am internally occupying a few months ago, even last month.
Opportunities continue opening for me. I'm walking in conscious strides, and call for assistance, breathing practices that quell doubts and calm nerves. I step aside and connect, choosing to Show Up to my life and have never been able to imagine feeling so liberated, so confident, and so comfortable in my own skin.
We do the best we can with the information we have.
Many aren't open to the idea of change and progress toward a more peaceful culture because they reflect the paradigm which mucks up the ability to see past it. They can not see outside the ego that deciphers 'right' and 'wrong', etc. and don't realize that their behavior resembles a robot, responding to the programs imprinted on them. Some by choice, to preserve the ego, others by repetition that was instilled at a young age.
It's as if the practice is presented as a beautiful box.
As we become more enthralled and appreciative of it's beauty, it unfolds to reveal another box, so slightly smaller that we can only see the difference between every 10th layer. Yet, each vastly more intricately patterned and beautiful than the next. As each layer is revealed, we renew appreciation for the practice as a whole.
Through every experience, we call upon response that filters itself through layers of practice. Informing every thought, every action, every decision.
It's dizzying that I've had only 4 years of this practice.
These are the feelings I used to get when I was 8 until about 13 years old, hours and hours of thought, trying to wrap my head around the idea of eternity... It would send me into a panic. I didn't know what to do with the idea. I couldn't conceive it. Yet it exists. It'd send me to a place that I sometimes didn't know how to get out of. I still haven't found words for the vast, endless visuals I still have. Neverending columns of math, numbers all adding seamlessly, they'd form themselves into gigantic balls and chase after me, thwarting me when I'd start to think I had it figured out.
Sometimes, I'd send myself to that place for fun, just to see how easy it would be for me to get out of. Some days, easily, and I'd fall asleep; others, paralyzing until I'd bolt out of bed, run downstairs, and stare blankly at my mom... Murmuring about how I wasn't able to sleep.
She'd hold me and I'd come out of my head. Back from outer space or wherever I wasn't able to escape from.
I always felt like I had a special connection in this secret that I couldn't tell anyone about even if I wanted to. On long road trips to New Mexico to visit family, I'd stare up at the stars, and gleefully recreate the starry night sky by pressing my knees into my eye sockets, where after a second or two, a brilliant galaxy would appear, and I'd just watch everything move around for tens of minutes. I always wondered whether other people knew about this trick too, but I never asked anyone.