Fear
My deepest fear is that I’ll have something to fear…ultimately allowing my shadow to take the wheel. We crave to steer cold in our comfort zone, but trapped in disbelief despite experience that provides a broader spectrum of relief, cycling a self-destructive pattern that appears safe; so to continue on through The Doors is to remain grateful of a clarity once reached, a mirror without deception in silence that speaks volumes. Mute but bright in color for those lost in columns of transition; deaf, dumb, and blind desiring more than failed continuity to pass the time. It could be so much better, right? Still we find ourselves stuck, but amidst traveling between trivial matter, and mundane routine, we recognize a place like a dream only slightly out of reach, a series of never-ending disorienting lights that lead somewhere…closer. And to hold on, is crucial in the process of letting go; a mountain once climbed where heightened awareness, and peace reside is Home, established before we got here, and long after; only temporarily erased if we will it to; another karmic effect we justify to see us through. It’s a matter of patience, persistence, and admitting we’re accustom to overcomplicating the return of a lesson learned. Materialistic, codependent, and otherwise reliant we are, starved from the womb. In order to get back on our horse, and ride, is allowing our troubles to subside, and re-establish our priorities, breaking measures in redefining “The End.” New eye, new vision, new perspective, new comprehension, new years, and cheers of absolution. Freedom is blinding, essentially giving you a type of attention that seams to defy gravity, which can be scary, with underlying brilliance we’re ashamed to become, guilty, numb. The Good Fight isn’t suppose to be easy, the doors we pass while becoming free isn’t all sunshine, and daisies. Many nightmares stand behind them that we must go through, all part of the pursuit. The altitude of an understanding never truly gets erased, just repressed if we will it to, my deepest fear stands in the way; potentially allowing myself to get the best of me, which is only fear itself, really. All in all I may be slow, but I’ve learned that the BEST feeling in the entire world is letting go. We’ve got more to say for ourselves than we’d like to give credit for, would we rather be left in debt? Do we admit defeat, or battle regret? Godspeed.
