It’s been one of those days.

It doesn’t feel like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but rather traveled “Bedknobs and Broomsticks” style to another dimension of myself.

Wait, I’m awake?

I don’t know when I’ll be “me” again. Or if I’ll even know when I get there.

It’s like falling into an avalanche and suddenly not knowing which way is up—my internal navigation might be off.

I feel like a satellite pointed into the vast blackness of myself. But there’s too much electronic noise.

Signal can’t come through.

They do say this is the problem with analog…too much distortion.

But I’m not digital. I can’t be digital. There just aren’t enough ones and zeros to color me completely from skin to marrow to soul.

Digital…I know, it’s more efficient.

It’s all at our fingertips, everything we could possibly want to know. But the more I know, the less I feel, and that is perhaps my worst fear.

I think there might be a direct correlation between how “me” I feel and how much of me I “feel.” It’s so easy to get lost in the doing, the going of life where each day becomes the next and each month the last.

We can lose ourselves here, where the colors of life start to all bleed together.

It’s all too easy to forget who we are and what the f*ck we’re here for when everything comes down to just getting it right, having the right information, the best, most calculated course of action.

I can Google every question I might have and fill my mind with more information about any one topic than could ever possibly be proven or peer reviewed—and even then, what does it matter?

What does any of it matter if I can’t tell my own truth from another’s opinion?

I’m not interested in what you know. I’m interested in who you are when you’re naked, not just of clothes, but without judgements, and opinions., free of labels and “shoulds.”

The truth is, we are becoming more like satellites and less like animals.

Still, the system we are running this data through is mostly water, this body is mostly body you see, and all of this information it creates insulation between us.

Fillet me open. Take my beating heart and scrub the layers of doubt and fear from these hungry arteries. I know how to do nothing less with this gravity of life than to take the weight of oxygen and let it lift me from the inside out.

I know nothing less.

So with prescience and precision, I’ll turn my insides out and feel this world on the underside.

What else is there?

I have no interest in the “right way,” no interest in becoming anything.

I have every interest in being and feeling and doing this now with the most of me that I can muster. How much of me can I fill into the square inch of this moment?

Let’s forget about the next. Let’s forget about the last.

Let’s just forget everything.

That’s a good place to start from our origin, as an analog of ourselves continuing to evolve.

 

 

 

Author: Scarlet Wells

Editor: Renée Picard

Photo: William Iven at Unsplash