“The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear.” — Rumi
I have written for a while. I’m sure part of me thought I would come back stronger — more passion, more intensity and better prose. But if anything, the thirst isn’t there, not in the sense that I don’t want to write or no longer enjoy the process, but I have this overwhelming sense of not wanting to prove anything, not least to my egoic, deluded self.
If you asked me what I desire, I could express it in one word: peace.
Peace from my mind.
Peace from my history.
Peace from my expected future.
But, most of all, peace with this moment — the most precious gift we possess.
If I look back on my life, of nearly 50 years, I struggle to remember a time when I was set free to enjoy who I was and not constantly chasing shadows. I’m not blaming anybody, but I’m convinced that had the messaging been different and the wisdom of a different hue, then I would have arrived sooner at the realisation that to be at peace means to let go, to unlearn and to silence all speech, thought and will and to allow our unconscious state to manifest in the world.
In short, to bring everything into the now.
In holding to this moment, everything else seems pointless or at least it seems devoid of the meaning that I once held dear. Of course, I recognise through the speech of others and most of what I read that none of this make sense but it’s the only way I see me living my life if I want to be at peace.