In the midst of our internal battles, the answers often elude us — but sometimes, it’s in the uncertainty itself where the true journey begins.
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Our battles are our own. Though the external swirl of circumstance informs and challenges our notions, ultimately the war is within.
I don’t know what the hell to do.
It’s a start. It’s raw. It’s the real you punching through the tumultuous surface and cracking the facade. You don’t have to know what to do — not all the time.
Because our culture is all about the doing, for ages we’ve subverted greater aspects of our humanity in the name of sustaining a system called economy, sustenance, and productivity.
Are there any tribal leaders, chiefs, gurus, priests, shamans, or storytellers sitting at any gathering, recounting ancient stories of the great banks, corporations, mortgages, universities, and concrete? Hell no.
The oldest stories are about language: of love, of art, of myths and legends; of battles, ascension, and spiritual transformation; of shapeshifting, mastering the elements, dancing with nature spirits, and family.
We’ve maintained massive lies within us for so long that we question our sanity — before we question the construct and framework from which it derives. We are so fiercely protective of our tiny spaces and our tiny collections of things that we fail to see how suppressed the cohesion and source of all things has become… making us believe we’re merely tiny, insignificant people.
No. I don’t know what the hell to do.
But I can be hurting, now and again — for me, and for you. Resolve has only ever come by feeling through the aches, pains, stagnation, frustration, and necessary madness. I welcome the beautiful retrospective, the cleaner slate, the naked canvas.