Roar like a beast

Pressure cookers everywhere. As if every cell, nerve, of my body is yet another reminder of who I am – not. Wrestling with every choice, step, thought, feeling. Wrestling with everyone, wrestling with the notion of ‘someone’, wrestling with assumptions, impossibilities, a projected lack of imagination. Wrestling with anything that does not stream consciousness as such, wrestling with the irony of my own struggle as the same source of suffering.

Attachment intensifies. I see how every regurgitated hurt is of the past - and yet has to be processed, including damned anger.

Every cell of my body is by now surrounded by acceptance, love, endurance, care, and sensitivity. What is left is to sense here, a blooming bounded by boundaries deeply yearning for connection.

My inner child screams, and so do I, wholly and out loud. Streams of tears and emotional break throughs testify to the storm. Every thought gets swept away by the force which awareness is in the form of anger. No word can hold position in sentences disrupted by sensuous inhibition while my body speaks of the greatest melodies and choreographies never told.

No feeling is eternal, no meaning in and of itself holds truth above or beyond the realm of free-flowing consciousness. Every force I have ever used to suppress is now in service of the, first and foremost, disintegrative power we call authenticity. Attachment needs cannot be a source of self-denying conflict anymore. However hard I try to push myself away from what is here, I am surrounded by a social holding space for everything, literally and figuratively, that is me.

‘I’ would like to flee, but I am not in control anymore. These are my life’s yesses to every ever-unuttered NO. Can’t no-one, I can’t even hold me down as the earth carries what is and has always been rooted. Let me reflect what is meant to flow through me, bloom into being, surrender as such. And roar like a beast.