Holes in Us3.4 The Architecture of the Soul(s)
This week feels lonely, but not desperate An emptiness around me, but not within Not comparing myself to others. Not punishing myself for stillness, but looking deeper into it And seeing clearly who I want to be
I’ve been in love
for the last few weeks. But not a healthy love. One that is bound for rejection and disappointment. It’s not love, it’s more like an obsession. Every day I struggle to stay focused on my path, so that I don’t get lost in its delirious dreams. Even though I recognize this obsession as a deceptive illusion, I still am haunted by it. For my obsession is not actually to have her love me, but to make myself feel whole, and free from the burdensome weight of feeling inadequate. Alas, winning her heart would only repair my confidence, not the source of the wound.
Indeed, this is far from love because there is no lover. For I am in love with an image of myself. An image being conjured by a voice inside me that silently whispers, “You’re not good enough”.
I write about these things
because it helps me understand these wounds, to study them so that their cure may become clear. But so silently and so deftly does my release swindle me of my joy. The pursuit becomes a chore, I fixate on the end goal and my expectations build, tearing my focus away from the innocence of the present.
As my focus drifts away from my heart to settle in my head, it becomes fixated outwardly on this image. Fearful that I might not ever archive it, I silence my own authenticity. Frustration leads to further corruption of my focus until the heart closes up, suffocated by my own impatience.
The moment of clarity fades and I feel my salvation slipping away. As the innocence of my desire gives way to contemptuous anger and the clarity of my feelings dissolve, I realize suddenly I’ve been here before. I look down to see a sea of briny anguish churning around my waist, the foamy waters curling up my body to imprison me in watery chains and drag me back down.
I look up
and the sky cracks with lightning, dark clouds roll forward ready to consume me in their darkness. The scene before me is all too familiar, like remembering a dream you’ve had a thousand times, This isn’t real.
I turn away
from the scene of grimace and suddenly it all vanishes. I am looking out a window. Everything is still. There is no sea, no clouds, everything around me is blank. Gazing out the window, I see birds chirping on a breezy summer day. They are perched in the maple tree in my backyard, singing lazy songs of summer. The window is open and the breeze wafts in the familiar salty air of home. In the distance I hear the gentle waves washing up against the shore. This is my home, this is my world and I am its creator.
I’ll sit here for a moment longer to breathe in the view. Then I’ll venture out of my house into the places I haven’t yet explored. I might find something new.
More Posts in this Chapter
Pursuing Perspective – Manifest
- Chapter I – Purpose
- Chapter II – Wisdom
- Chapter III – Clarity