Time to come In

It’s a funny little world we live in. Our real-life, self-made human dilemma. All the silly structures and standards we’ve come up with to perpetuate sameness and constancy. We work so hard to maintain order and to keep ourselves in the rusted box we’ve created along the way. Don’t ask too many questions, don’t do things too differently, don’t color outside the lines, and Gosh darn it eat your vegetables (at least we got that right). We put people with athletic or otherwise entertaining abilities on a pedestal, ornament our otherwise neutral landscape with gold and silver and diamonds to feel important, and spend so much time trying to distract ourselves so that we’re not forced to face any sort of reality. We know more about our TV stars than we do our ourselves, know all the facts and stats about our favorite sports teams, but haven’t a clue what you mean when you tell someone to tune in to their Center. Can’t imagine spending even one full day alone. What would you do? Hang out with your cell phone, I guess.

As I write that I hear someone at a neighboring table trying to explain to his parents what a “thot” is. This can’t be life. Is there anyone else out there exploring alternative ways of thinking and being and living? Someone else who could give less of a damn about all of this nonsense? Huh, Universe? Is anybody out there? I feel like my current existence screams that regularly. Like, I must have a sign on my forehead that reads that in some way.

I say all of that while I sit in my favorite Thai restaurant, alone. An attractive, young woman, sitting by herself, cross-legged, writing in a journal. Who does that? Side-eyes, stares, and looks of ‘I feel sorry for you’ from the tables filled with people around me. Reading my sign, I suppose. Something must be wrong with me, of course, says the average Sally Boo-Boo. But you know, I just don’t have a damn to give anymore.  What a relief to relish in my own company, to flitz around the world in whatever way I damn well please. Fuck normalcy and ritual and the habitual life we’ve created and stuck ourselves in so that we can be like everyone that has come before us. A world full of Barbies and robots (thank you Mattel. And Nicki Minaj).

But there again, if being who I am and knowing what I know and doing what I do means that I’m a Polly Pocket in a world of Barbie’s, then Polly it is. At least she’s small and mobile and unassuming. I just hope that my life will aid others in exploring the non-barbie life, too. That’s all I want; to show people that the daily grind is a fable and your real art is painted in the gold and silver sparkles left by the heart. That life’s promotions are found in the moments of healing and elation that leave you wide-eyed and sparkling, ready to take on the world. The unbeaten path that says if you take the time to unplug from the world out there and start to craft your world in Here, life opens up to you, ineffably. Meditation is The Way.

Help yourselves, people. There’s so much more, so much better, but you can’t be afraid of yourself. You gotta go in to get out.

With Love, Solé

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