stillness.

 

JANUARY 1ST, 2018. 

 

i know i’ve been distant. i’ve never felt more disconnected from social media than i do right now. it is as if even when i am here, i am not truly here. and for those of you who are still listening, i need to release what has been weighing so heavily on my heart. for the past few months, i’ve felt lost. suffocated by self induced doubt. paralyzed by the illusion of perfection. wrestling with untamed thoughts inside my mind. caught between two worlds. stillness and creativity. constantly torn between tracing inwards, and pouring outwards. giving love to myself. giving love to others.

 

one of the most frequent requests i receive, is to share more. to show more. to make more videos. to take more photos. and for some reason, every time i raise a camera to capture this life, something inside my soul screams not to. initially, i thought that this was because a piece of me still feared vulnerability. as though transparency can only be embodied through exposing my inner world on film. documenting raw moments of my life to dilute the illusion of perfection constructed through social media. and today, it hit me like a tidal wave. my thoughts unraveled as a million droplets of water descended in unison, washing over every fiber of my being. clearing my vision.

 

the truth is, vulnerability is a living expression of creative authenticity. doing what you love. loving what you do. and my purest form of self expression is writing. it always has been. since the time i was a child, and i relentlessly poured my imagination into the faded pages of the little journal that never left my side. words were my refuge. my sanctuary.

 

instagram has never been about images for me. it has been the words. i don’t want to be looked at. i want to be looked into. i want to be listened to. i feel as though i’ve been so caught up in embodying the expectations of others, that i’ve become blind to what’s been in front of my eyes this entire time. all i want to do is write. all i’ve ever wanted to do, is write. i’m not sure why it’s taken me so long to see this. 

 

this past year has been by far the most beautiful, yet the most difficult of my entire life. a whirlwind of missteps. of downfalls. of imperfection. i have lived a life held together by threadbare stitches. messy. raw. broken. our existence is composed of duality itself. hot and cold. salt and sugar. light and dark. you need one, to feel the other.

 

so much unfolds beneath the veil of this little screen. through letting go of social media, softening the endless surge of distractions infiltrating the collective consciousness of this external world, i drifted into a sanctuary of stillness. and it was here, I was finally safe to surrender. I was finally safe to collapse. so I did. I shed my skin as darkness tore through me. clawing at flesh and bone as its screams escaped my lips, starving for the taste of air. howled until my limbs were trembling and my lungs were numb. unearthed the emotions I had been burying for years. cried and cried  until I was empty inside. watched as the walls I had worked so tirelessly to build shatter to ruins beneath me.

 

everything was stripped away…until I was left with only love. my illusion of self dissolved entirely as eternity emerged at my fingertips. I gazed upon every inch of my being through the eyes of unconditional compassion, and felt as though I was seeing myself for the first time. gradually, this love grew and grew until others were able to see me, too. through the reawakened fluidity of my borderless heart, I experienced a depth of connection i was unaware existed until i fell head over heels in love with the purity of stillness that arises from living within the eternal embrace of this present moment. connection to myself. connection to others. connection to every living creature upon this earth.

 

i found a home within the arms of strangers who turned to family in a matter of seconds. humans who made time for stories spoken over home cooked meals beneath a blanket of stars. who made time for love. i learned that happiness is effortless and gentle. it is the soft flicker of light whispering through roadside fields at dusk. the exhale of a setting sun, bathing our world in liquid gold. the warmth of saltwater flecked skin pressed against mine. the taste of 7 am coffee from food trucks and the selflessness stitched into the hearts of those who carry you for miles in the back of their pickup trucks without asking for anything in return. finding ourselves in lost places. drinking in the wild air whirling through an open window as we traced our way through backyard coastlines. listening to the echo of waves kissing the slumbering sand in endless infatuation. collapsing into bed after scampering barefoot through a living nirvana until the last sliver of light melted beneath crystalline waters.

 

the days dissolved together and time faded from my mind. weeks would pass in which i would hardly glance at my phone. i felt whole. i felt free. I felt infinite. overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of being fully alive. these moments were sacred to me. and i knew they would slip through my fingertips, if i held them out to this world. so I continued to delve deeper within.

 

stillness became the sacred source of energy that sustained my evolution. It allowed me to shed the layers masking my true authenticity, and nurtured my rebirth in becoming who I was placed here to be. and I learned to protect and guard this stillness, through distancing myself from social media. but over time, a hollow emptiness gradually began to eat away at me. I felt as though the further I drifted away from this platform, the further I fell from my purpose.

 

I was floating in a sea of self doubt, paralyzed by lack of creativity. i wasn’t building towards anything any longer. i had become numb within the confines of comfortability i have constructed for myself. the question, “what are you even doing?” plagued sleepless nights spent staring up at the ceiling above my head. I had spent months engulfed in solitude. retracing my roots. nurturing my wounds. healing through human connection. learning to love myself again. giving to myself. I felt as though I was at a tipping edge. I was overflowing. I wanted to give back in some way. I wanted to love. i wanted to embody the evolution of my existence through a reawakened surge of creativity.

 

I decided to return to social media. to do something. anything. but something felt still off. forced. as though i was squeezing out every ounce of my energy until i was achingly exhausted, depleted deep within. a few days ago, it hit me. so much has shifted within me over the course of this past year, but this inner transformation was never reflected through creation. I am an entirely different individual, inside and out, then I was even a few months ago. my hunger for fulfillment is unable to be satiated by returning to what has been.

 

all I’ve ever wanted to do is give. to help others. to reawaken the intuitive nature of all living creatures through becoming a living reflection of love upon this earth. I want to inspire you to surrender to little whisper lingering within the depths of your heart. to be relentlessly passionate in the fearless pursuit of whatever it is, that sets your soul on fire, that makes you feel the most alive. though how can i inspire you to do this...when i have not even been doing it myself?  

 

the truth is, love has become my passion. human connection has become my passion. and i can only embody the purity of this passion, i can only evoke the depth of these emotions, through my purest form of self expression. which is writing. which is words. when i write, i am consumed by the feeling of being alive. every cell enveloped in dizzying electricity. skin trembling as symphonies swirl through my fingertips, sourced from a realm beyond comprehension, breathing life into emptiness. i don’t want what i create, to be about “me” anymore. and that’s why writing is so powerful. it has never been about me. these words pour through me, for you. sometimes reading my own words is surreal. it’s like i don’t even know where half of this comes from. or how. writing is effortlessly selfless by nature.

 

i learned to guard the stillness i found, through not sharing it. and perhaps in this, i subconsciously learned to guard my heart, which is why i’ve become so resistant to writing. for it is the living reflection of my inner heart.  I don’t know where this is going, or where i am headed...all i know is, I am so tired of running away from this gift I’ve been graced with. and i cannot return to what has been.  I have to let go of what once was. to create space for what is to come to rise in its place. and in doing this, i know i am risking everything i’ve built. but i only built it, by risking everything.