Meg Rumbolt

Words from the soul for the soul

[rawfeels]

Lost at Sea

My tires cut through the rivers of rain on the pavement. The rain doesn’t seem to slow as it sprays water in every direction. I drive alone on this road to a destination unknown. It was raining fast enough to seem as though time stood still. There was a threshold between the balance of time and speed. While the pause in my life’s reoccurrence peaked, my awareness faltered. There was glimpses of time I would never see again, breaths I would never breathe again. Was I really alive if I wasn’t aware?

In my dance with nature’s predators I was able to feel my fear. In that abrupt awareness it was as though the gates of the dam blew open flooding the dry valleys of my security. Since that day I have been provided situational hazards to be able to make that pill of vulnerability a little easier to swallow. While I write these words I find validation in those moments of loss on purpose. The plot thickened and the synopsis became way more complicated and questionable.

As I grow older, the decisions grow with me. The fear’s become stronger. The love becomes grander. The more thoughts and feelings I have carry more weight since understanding that every decision can lead me somewhere completely unannounced, yet completely expected. Just like that horror book I read as a kid. A story that made me feel as though I was creating the outcome for the characters. The options seemed endless since they started at the very beginning. I have come to a point in my life that I can see where each decision will lead me. The total awareness of every passing moment that will save me time in the end.

Working in union as co creator of my story, even though I choose my own lane of traffic, I am still being guided to my upmost betterment. Betterment for myself but more importantly, the collective. The choices are the multifaceted doorways of abundance. I could choose any door numbered for any type of life I want. Each door filled with an array of blessings, that can only be seen with beauty in the eye of the beholder. Cyclical time will provide me with reoccurring lessons until I accept the blessing. In co creation of my destiny, I choose more time in my lane on this freeway of life.

[rawfeels]

Eyes of Yellow

I decided to time my hike to align with the twilight zone. It’s my favourite time of day, whether morning or night. It’s a time between worlds when silhouettes are the only remains of an illuminated view. The tease of light and warmth leaves the air around me cold and still. The shadows come out to play tricks on my eyes raising the beat of my heart and the speed of my pace. The exhilaration of the illusions contrasting to the absolute stillness of the environment makes two halves of a whole. My addiction to contrasts pertaining to the one statement that took over my life, I’m in.

Caught up in the aliveness of our surroundings, I let my mind wander. I had a sense of fearlessness I habitually rely on that I often became absent minded to the dangers of earth, heavenly believing in the faith that I will be taken when it is my time. As I walked in contemplation of my innate ability to harbour such courage, the warnings of the squirrels ended my train of thought. My dog and I moved fast up and around the rolling earth. We had a time limit and I was determined to get a certain amount of kilometres out of this hike. Ironically, Mother Nature had her own time line in mind.

While I looked at my watch for the third time, I heard a sound that stopped us dead in our tracks. We were no longer being warned by the prey. The calling off of coyotes from quite a distance snapped me back to reality. In a matter of seconds the calls that were few and far between became so loud that I could no longer hear my pounding heart. Quickly making eye contact with my dog, Dalia who was now close to my side, I grabbed the closest and deadliest stick I could find. Tripping with panic, we started the race to safety.

It was as if I gained super human abilities. The rush of adrenaline pushed my muscles to move at a speed I didn’t know I was capable of. I could hear the snapping of branches and creaking of footsteps that weren’t ours. I tore my eyes from their tunnel vision to be able to see behind us. Even through the trick of light, I saw their eyes in the shadows.

While I ran through the grabbing branches, flashbacks came to mind of the times I confused which parts of life I should fear from those I should be fearless. The wires routed in my brain were crossed. I would have rather risked my life than risk my heart. In the signs of the warnings and the loud calls of the wilderness, I chose fear. Fear saved our lives as we knew them. Fearlessness would have been detrimental to our existence.

Since God showed me what it is I should be afraid of, I am ready with discernment for what it is that no longer scares me.

[rawfeels]

Cyclical

Between worlds I floated above the water. I find myself as I lay in this body of comfort. The lake held me up as new water fell in the form of raindrops from the sky. In the moment of serenity my mind was clear. All I felt was contentment, all I sensed was love and all I craved was water. Through the rain I saw the clouds begin to ripple as the water lapped my skin. The mimicked motion of the flexing of the atmosphere. I never noticed this before. The sky breathed in alignment with the water. I found my own breath matching the beat of nature surrounding me. I could see as the water sees. Birds flew overhead while chirping in acknowledgement of my existence. In my stillness I could feel the soft kisses from the fish.

Excitement peaked in my mind and in my childlike wonder I swam to a rock to gain a new perspective. To be able to see what the sky sees. Even though I left the warm caress of the water I was greeted with the same gentle embodiment. Air, though much lighter on the body, moved against my skin just as the water did. Mother Nature always holding me in her arms no matter where I am in my life.

Being in the element of water, I had the ability to feel. Being in the element of air, I was enabled the sight. Gazing down at the water I could see the little kissing fish swirling the rock I was now apart of. I could no longer feel them but by the sight of them I was reminded of the sensation. From this perspective I was able to see that the water bobbed up to meet the air it also fell to catch the rain. Even though I couldn’t feel it, I could see the sensation all the same.

Due to this inherent need to define everything, the mind, establishes a disconnection. The body is one with its surroundings at all points in time. It understands what the mind tries to label. While I floated in the serenity of peace and stillness my mind had to create separation to be able to gain insight. All the while my spirit observed this behaviour. This challenging imbalance between mind and body. The mind will cry for attention when the body is being nourished. The body consistently sacrifices it’s means for replenishment to console the minds insatiable thirst.

In this new found perspective I found balance is the key to oneness. Which one do you lead by? How do you tell the difference? How full are you?

[rawfeels]

I Pray for Thunder and Rain

Through the internal battle between mind and body I lay in my spirit. As my hyper overactive mind annoyingly wakes my body, I can hear her grumbles of dismissal as she rolls over and covers her head. My enthusiastic inner child is practically jumping on the bed around me, excitably laughing about all that we are going to do today. I try to grab her and contain her but she’s quick like ninja and I get an accidental foot in the stomach that is grumbling it’s annoyance. I can’t help but laugh and smile at that sweet child of mine. Surrendering to her once again, I am out of bed at 5:30.

Before I go to sleep, every night I set the intention that my mind will receive the rem sleep necessary to be able to shut up so my body can get the right amount of sustenance. Last night I was so tired that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I had one of those dreams where I was going to and from a place always forgetting something. Me and this child were trying to get to my moms car to leave this creepy religious farm community. First it was my friend, second time was my cat and the third was my phone. We made it in view of the car and I finally woke out of that horrible dream. I don’t know how many times we almost died because of my need to control. When I second guessed myself it costed us more time. My friend was already in the car, I didn’t own a cat and my phone was in my pocket.

I know that if I were to decide to lay in bed I risk missing that sunrise and the birds first song. If I decide to go to bed without prayer or meditation I risk having dreams that are rabbit holes instead of clear messages. The dream showed me in many ways how an outcome can change based on a split second of indecision. My inner child is guiding me but I have the final say. As she took me through the maze of that crazy dream, I told her when we needed to be taken off track. She still new the best root no matter which way we went but the more time it took for me to trust myself the more risk I put us into. If I can’t trust myself, I have to trust her. To remain innocent after all she has been through, she has attained the key to life in all its wisdom. She is my guided hand through this maze of life. She is the embodiment of god. She is the reason I get out of bed every morning at 5:30. Sweet child of mine.

[rawfeels]

The Hand

I lived with my friend in high school. We spent many nights talking about boys, girls, dreams and school. I talked about our childhood and how we witnessed it from innocence and naivety. Nothing remained unsaid while the tears turned to laughter. I found a new world through her stories. The grass wasn’t greener but it was a different shade of green. She had pear trees and I had cherry. She had the cliffs of the ocean. I had the mountains for the streams. Though we saw through different windows, we still felt the same emotions. I am forever grateful for her part in my life, for if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have gained this perspective at such a young age.

You know how many different card patterns there are? I don’t. There has to be more than the world has hands for. Just based on experience with my own mind, I own many variants of the same thing. My clothing and shoes may look different but they are worn for the same purpose. My vehicle may not look like a sports car, but it has some of the same parts as one. It has the same need for power, same indicators of speed and the same rotation of tires. All vehicles take us further and faster than our feet, fundamentally serving the same purpose.

We are dealt many cards. As the world takes all kinds, we take all cards. The cards may look different but they are all made from the same tree. They are used for the same purpose. No matter what cards we are dealt, we as humans experience the same emotions. We all laugh, cry, smile and rage. Every victim card has the same feeling of hopelessness. Every joy card has the same expression of a smile. Every lost card has the same sense of loneliness. It is what we do with those cards that matter. What we do with those cards make the difference. How will you play your cards today?

[rawfeels]

Traumatically Independent

I was raised stubbornly, in a dictatorship where crying was a sign of weakness. My expression of emotions were so bottled up that when the dam broke, it was the end of my struggles but ironically the end of my freedom. My crocodile tears were nothing more than a illusion. Seeing the devastation my tears created, I started to build a stronger dam. As a small child I had no understanding what I was doing to myself. Brick and mortar layered with metal, topped with the strongest slab of diamond and glitter. No one was coming through.

When a beaver builds its home in the river, the water still flows. It will force itself into the ground around it to create another stream, another way to get to its destination. That happens to us, too. My release came through in a different way. I couldn’t let myself feel the sadness, hurt and pain. While the woman inside me broke apart, I used anger to keep her safe. Before I knew it, the sacred clown mask I put on day after day became me. Each time I put it on made it harder and harder to take off. The fragile woman behind the mask becoming all the more hidden by traumatic independence with the stoic ability to stand there and take the bullets.

The woman I was dying to protect, was me. So where I had a right to feel anger, I had all the same right to feel sadness. To be stoic is not a power, to be emotional is.

[rawfeels]

Copacetic

I see signs in everything. It can be from numbers to multiple phrasing, animals, people and questions answered. When I see the signs I usually ask for more because I’m still second guessing myself. Songs are my validation. It has never failed me to validate those signs and synchronicities through music. Due to my seemingly inherent instinct to question myself I found myself uncertain of this call I received. I tend to float in the still waters before exploring under the surface. I’ve learned that from the many times of diving off the wharf into very shallow water. I do this to provide my self examination time to get out its scuba gear.

The in between used to make me anxious. I have a hard time sitting still as it is, let alone waiting for the next clue or opportunity from the big guy upstairs. I had a tight grip on the outcome because I wouldn’t let things come in their own time. I wouldn’t except the period of waiting. I would disturb the earth looking for the roots of the lily. I would try to force life and nature before it was ready causing it to take more time.

As I float in these waters, I can feel the velvet lap by the tongue of this body. The soft caress of the ruling element of my astrological DNA. The main ingredient for a full serving of humanity. I am water, and water is me. I found my smile in the river of tears. I found my centre in the swells of the ocean. I found my youth in the age of the lake. It is by water that I will learn and grow. It is by water I am still and I am fury.

After the call I panicked a little. I felt unprepared and my self confidence suffered. It means little to have someone or something believing in you when you don’t believe in yourself. I found I was always able to persevere more responsibly when someone or something was dependent upon me. God wasn’t calling on me just because of his belief in me, he needed me. This world needs me. As it needs every single one of us. Everything and everyone on this earth has a purpose. No purpose less useful than the next as they all serve for the betterment and suitability of the universe.

https://open.spotify.com/track/7j04glqh2SY6Es6jiQEhgf?si=o1hQYXOzSs6xjZc7XnQ6PQ&dl_branch=1

[rawfeels]

The Call

I woke up this morning at 4 am, ready to take on the world. My vibrational magnetism always operating at an all time high in the dawn of a new day. I don’t want to conquer it and try to control the light in my hands. I’d rather serve it, provide it with the purpose and a reciprocated blessing of being alive. Although, this morning, I wasn’t awoken by my regular call sanctioned by my internal clock. Today, the call was different.

I left my parents at a young age because I knew more than them, as any teenager does. I started working at 15 and with the taste of independence I left within a few short months. Since I didn’t really know what it was like to be a kid anyways, how hard could it to be an adult? Just had to make sure my bills were paid, my cigarette pack was never empty and I didn’t totally flunk school. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Many times I went hungry by letting my pride get the best of me. There was something about the pill of vulnerability that I wasn’t ready to swallow. Until recently, I needed approximately 3 tries with a lot of water to be able to swallow that pill. I was provided resources in the form of people, places and things when I left my pride at the doorway between growth and my comfort zone. My false sense of options showed me just how many times I can run in a circle. In a few occurrences, that circling trench was too deep to climb out of on my own. Making the pill all the more harder to swallow.

When I feel hopeless and completely lost, the only thing I am absolutely certain of is that I’ll be okay. I don’t know how. I don’t know when. I trust in my resilience and my ability to persevere. Yesterday, I pleaded ignorance to the divine intervention that was always in the background. Today, God handed me a glass of water. I was called to swallow that pill.

[rawfeels]

Meg’s Adventure

I’m not much of a gambler. My poker face is non existent. When I was a kid we would play Texas Hold’em with penniesI had no will power when it came to methodically ensuring my stance throughout the game. Luckily I laugh and smile when I lie as well as when I tell the truth so little did my siblings know how often I was bluffing. My younger brother caught on before I could realize and soon that worn cloth earned some very worthy holes. My methods for poker domination finally let me down and I had no plan B. Why have any more steps when step 1 never failed? Eventually it failed and then I was left with nothing but a hole in my poker pocket. Winning was never the point for me, anyways. I loved the game and the interaction with my siblings were enough for me to keep trying. All or nothing, baby. Always going big or I’ll just go to my room since the game just isn’t street enough for this cat.

As I aged, I lost my sense of courage. I gained the comfort in security. I was enthralled by the planning that I completely missed the point of joining the game in the first place. My newly adopted strategy of never all and always something worked for a few years. The very necessary 180 flip guaranteed my safe journey from point A to point B. If I held onto the fearlessness of my childlike wonder it would have had me on the wrong side of the mountain, in much rougher terrain. I didn’t have the hiking boots for that so I stayed on the groomed trail titled the adventure of self.

I tripped a few times on loose roots but then I remembered I had eyes. In that new found awareness I could actually see what’s in front of me. I could see what was around me. Funny, I could also see what was behind me but frankly, I had no idea where I was. Where was I? My dreams were someone else’s dreams. My goals were someone else’s goals. I thought I adopted a new strategy but my all or nothing continued to be my plan A. Although now it was all for someone and nothing for me.

The direction I was headed had no sun and it looked like it was snowing on the top of the mountain. Me trying to plan was like a wolf trying to hide amongst sheep, it just didn’t fit. So obviously, I had no winter jacket. As much as I love the cold, there was no way my outfit could protect me from those extreme conditions. Thanks to my innate ability to plan I had to stop my adventure of self to turn around and find another way. Lost in the internal argument between style and comfort I managed to walk straight into a Winnie the Pooh sign. Knowing full well that wasn’t there on my way through, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. The very old, worn out sign pointed to the left. The thrill of finally experiencing something new caused butterflies in my stomach. Could have been the hunger but at this point I couldn’t care less. I practically skipped into the overgrown narrow pathway.

After what seemed like forever the path opened up and I could see the point of the mountain I was headed to. Even though the sun seemed to be breaking some of the clouds up there, it was still very grey and desolate. To my surprise there was another mountain. Far enough to only be able to make out the farm land. Looked like civilization and hopefully food for my hungry soul. There was another sign beside the looking point of that mountain. This sign with a smiley face etched into the wood was accompanied by a honey pot. In the pot I found a wing suit, helmet and goggles. The anxiety confused my mind. My butterflies turned into vultures that felt as though they were eating me alive.

Even without the binoculars I could see which path provided me with a more desired outcome. Which path will bear the fruits of my efforts thus far. All I had to do was jump. I was given everything I needed to make this move. To trust this process. To accept that everything I did prior to this moment led me here. Every decision I made guided me here. The gear and tools I needed were provided to me along the way. I tried before to ignore the provided efforts and it still lead me here to this point. My hunger for life decided to put on that gear in hopes to find the real honey. It was either I die from a fall or malnutrition. I choose the fall because I love food too much. Besides, do the vultures waiting for my forfeit deserve to be fed before me? In the adventure of self, hell no. I’ll choose me. Every damn time.

[rawfeels]

Story Teller

I envy those who can flawlessly tell a story. The sounds of the fluxes in their voice providing a captivating narrative. The deepening of their eyes, as if their colour changes all together, to provide the proof of a flawless tale. Sometimes I find I get encompassed by their passion that I totally don’t listen to the story. Resulting in my cheeks blushing and the confession of my admiration.

When I have a story to tell, it is never that fluid. It’s scattered, stuttered and entirely under or over dramatized, depending on how much someone is laughing or how serious the experience. My emotions get the best of me and since I’m so aware of my body I get lost in my own response to my story. I find, too, that something that is so incredibly grand to me is very underwhelming to others. The ego in me always reminds me of the quote; simple minds, simple pleasures. Then my higher self returns the banter with; still waters run deep. Reminding me of my soul and how the world takes all kinds and it truly doesn’t need another complicated story teller. The daily commentary in my head is entertaining all on its own. The simplicity in every day life is truly my greatest appreciation. My mind is entirely simple. There’s no need room for grey. You cannot be in both black and white. It’s one or the other.

I lived in the grey, for most of my life. They grey story of me, Meghan. In many cases the story of myself, and how others viewed me, was very all over the place. Many blacks and many whites resulting in an average of grey. Grey is muddy. Grey is bland. Grey turns every colour into a tone of dullness and predictability. When I found myself living in that grey, those around me knew me better than myself. The story they had of me was so consistent that when I grew or evolved as a soul I was considered a masked clown. A devil in disguise. The new me being a cover up for the old me. As if I wasn’t able to change. As though I wasn’t encouraged to grow from my surroundings. I begged and pleaded many times for people to understand. For those I loved with all my heart to see me. The me I see. The soul I am. They only ever saw the story I once told. The story that wasn’t too old. The story I unconsciously sold prior to my self found awareness.

I found myself habitually separating from those I held dear. My story I wrote in the stone of their hearts forever burdened on my shoulders. Each one added the weight onto the wings of my highest form of self. Making it so hard to expand and fly. The bridges that closed the gaps from my heart to theirs were caught with flames fuelled by my desperation for evolution. Cementing their perception of me into their DNA, into mine. Every time I had to fall out of my nest and learn how to fly. Alone I pushed myself. Alone I carried those weights. Alone I flew.

Those loved ones I hurt with my grey areas, were unintentionally continuing the cycle. By no fault of their own, their predictions of me was powering the motor of the revolving door. Never open, never closed and constantly going in the same direction. Eventually the door would blow off the hinge and ruin the motor. I consistently waited until the last possible moment to remove myself from the environment. With my intuition providing multiple warnings that I refused to listen to, I left long after the damage was done.

Time heals. Time has removed those weights I carried for my past self and those I love. Time has the ability to give you a new piece of paper to write on. To hand you a new pen to write with. A fresh start for yourself and the dear souls of your past. We are all influencing each other’s story. We all carry the weight. In the lessons of this that I have endured I make it a point of my own to carry no more. To allow God to hold my wings and release my chains while I climb to the top of those stairs of the highest tower. I will write my own story. I no longer feel alone. My average recalculated by the light of God and the circle of time.

[rawfeels]

7 for the Story Told

My morning was blessed. As everyday is a blessing, today was all the more. One of the city’s oldest cemeteries was calling my soul.

As I strolled, I pondered. Once again, I found myself imagining the outcome. I hoped to find a stranger on a bench, in amongst the headstones or off the groomed path who could share some space with me. Someone to talk to. Someone to listen. Someone to accompany me to just be. I weaved my way around. Every turn I took made no sense. Yet, every time I looked back I saw a person going about their business. I found myself disappointed because I just wanted to say hi to someone. Smile at someone free from the restrictions of the mask. When the disappointment burned away by the heat of the rising sun, I was at awe to the comfort I felt. Absolute serenity. Absolute acceptance.

There’s a few treed areas in the cemetery so I decided to allow my body to do the walking. I ended up under this lush crap apple tree that was surrounded by a canopy of maple leaves. That’s when I heard them. The fury of the caws. The flapping of the wings. Crows. I looked up and there were 7 above me, in the branches of the maple tree. Numbers are powerful and 7 is God’s.

I was simply in their territory and that must have been enough reason to explain their temperament. Respecting the outcome of my intrusion, I turned around and I walked back the way I came. When I stopped, they moved to the tree branches above me. Escorting me back rather loudly. I stopped a few more times, testing them to see how far they would follow me. When I reached the groomed path is when they stopped. I allowed the filling sense of sadness, for my intimidating presence to such innocent creatures, to escape with my breath.

I followed the ground by which my feet took me. I took a moment to touch every headstone I passed, every tree, and leaf. I walked up to a web and put my hand out to catch a falling spider. Beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder. Such is life and such is death. I was remarkably caught up in the aliveness around me, the sweet little spider in my hands captivating my childlike wonder. I felt myself relax and began to rest against a pillar, a marked head stone.

I was looking for souls. I was looking for conversation. I was looking for companionship amongst those I didn’t know. As quickly as those thoughts came I began to see the outcome of my decision to come to this place of death. I was provided by all that I was searching for. Everything I longed for was right at my finger tips.

In the revelations of my expedition I spoke aloud and asked who I was leaning on. This cold stone surface as my shoulder to lean on and the hands that held me. The loved one who was marked here on this very spot.

It was an old stone. I couldn’t decipher any other words. Only the bold block lettering at the base of the stone. In this discovery, I found myself brought to tears. Overwhelmed with the sense of love. Consumed by the serendipitous moments I am so thankful to have experienced. Written in stone, Father, his name I found. All the same, he found me. He truly is in all. The voids we can’t fill, the peace we can’t find and the love we seek are all in search for God.

[rawfeels]

Curiosity and the Cat

Expectations lead to resentment. I would make decisions on the fly because it would help break the fall for if it didn’t work out. When I wrote down what I wanted in life; perfect guy, perfect friends, perfect car, perfect job, I literally found it in everything.

Ironically the instant gratification and my uplifted ego would come crashing down with a sense of inability to achieve such greatness. It was the downfall of my sense of self, daily. Minute by minute my highest form was sacrificed for that teeny tiny sense of fulfillment. Abandoning my trust in the process I fell into my habitual demise of being traumatically independent just to have it blow up in my face.

When it came to loved ones providing me with their very extensive experience based knowledge as to why I might want to think twice was always just enough to step over the edge. Not to prove them wrong. That sense of being right was the item on the top shelf that I never bothered to reach for. For me, it was the sense of control. If someone said I couldn’t and I let that influence my next decision then I handed my control over on a silver platter. Here, did you want fries with that?

The problem was that I didn’t know what my goals were. I didn’t know what my purpose was. I didn’t know where to start. I was pleading ignorance. Consistently trying to force that slap in the face, the cold bucket of reality to validate my self destructive decisions. Curiosity was always going to kill me. The what if’s were the ripple in the curtain that I needed to pounce at that would lead me to a 50ft drop, death by poor judgement.

We are all presented with signs. Signs of where to go, signs of what to eat, signs that we are on the right path and signs that we are not. In my past I have blatantly chosen to ignore these signs. No matter how many times I fell that same 50ft drop, small pieces of me were killed by my own hand. I laugh because I was my own worst enemy, my own worst critic and my opposing team. Yet, I allowed myself to take over everything. Hoping that someday, my false sense of self will finally pull through with the net to break my fall.

Through proper effort and intentions, strategy will land you in the right place at the right time for your upmost purpose to be fulfilled. I still feel that I don’t know and I’m finally okay with that. Every day I get to take that leap of faith into the unknown. Ultimately sacrificing to my highest soul. With an awareness to see the hidden and shown signs of when to pounce, I resigned from my dictatorship and handed the title to God as my successor. I have adopted the strategy to follow the signs and intuition bestowed to me. I have become the cat that killed curiosity.

[rawfeels]

Children of Chaos

Recently, in my adult years, I realized I was addicted to chaos. I fell into the pits of crazy wildfires and swirling winds to find myself reliant on some sort of substance to help me escape. The world around me was a raging fiery tornado and to slow it down the only way I knew how was to subdue my instinct to run by numbing the pain. I relied on outside influences to console my inner child. It would be someone else’s words, opinions or experiences that I would search for because I couldn’t trust my inner wisdom. It was hallucinogenics, alcohol and nicotine because it was the only way I could feel in control. To be able to create a false sense of contentment.

Eventually all those vices were falling apart at the seams of my very carefully stitched backpack of soul. I began to feel animosity towards those who only ever showed me love. I gave them the power and inner views of my constricting thoughts. My power to make decisions for myself. I was projecting the inward form of rejection of my intuition. Having these thoughts were enough to make me sick. Sick with disgust that I could no longer speak. I subdued my voice. I put restrictions on myself because I couldn’t look in the mirror to view the soul I was becoming. I locked myself away in fear of the thoughts that would come and consume my mind while trying to enjoy my loved ones company. Substances numbed me. Clouded my view of this catastrophe happening inside of me. I couldn’t stand the evil I had thought I was becoming. This form of self I wouldn’t love so who else would?

The sense of control I had, the false sense of progress I bared and the insecure wall I had caged my inner child within had finally disintegrated. I spent a lot of time and effort on myself and my inner demons that when I was forced to step into the old me I realized how far I didn’t come. I was stagnant in chaos this whole time. Amongst my demons where it was safe, where I felt the most comfortable.

The speed of light is the fastest form of movement. It’s the fastest to slip through the foundation and disappear into darkness. No matter how far I stepped into the light of my higher self, the darkness, my demons were right there behind me. Every step of the way. They provided me with the motivation to move forward. To break the cycles. Don’t they deserve the amount of attention and love I give to my highest form?

As I walked though the valley I found gods compassion. The love I couldn’t have for myself was filled with the love for god. I finally let go of the control and instinct to run and let god guide me. God came in the form those around me and those I didn’t feel I could lean on. The most unexpected places and people.

My anecdote of compassion for self was ironically written in the pits of chaos.

[rawfeels]

Speed Bump

I had someone ask me if they were a speed bump. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why someone would ask me that, let alone feel that way. As it settled into my cracks in my shielded exterior, I felt myself start to sink into the depths of desperation. To feel as though all you are there for is to get driven over.

In that darkness I saw the light. Metaphorically speaking, as speed bumps we are able to control the pace of the world. We provide safety and a moment to ensure the thought that it’s time to slow down.

We have so many days where we are simply coasting through life and not living in the awareness of just being. No matter how many warnings provided, I have driven over a speed bump, bottomed out, pissed because this speed bump was in MY way and I returned to be completely consumed by my thoughts. Living in my head opposed to the moment. Without consideration of my surroundings and those “speed bumps” around me.

Those speed bumps are people in my life that catch my attention enough to help me stop, take a moment and just be. Those speed bumps are situations that physically bring my mental running wheel to a halt. Those speed bumps provide me with the moment to consider the world, my world as a whole. Do my actions, thoughts and feelings affect the universe around me for the betterment or for the detriment? When I contemplate phrasing, actions or emotions, do I look at it positively or personally subjective to be a negative blip in my existence?

Moments carry weight. I know our individual moments are glimpses in time, therefore our problems are much more minute than we consider. It is when those moments affect more than just one. The same moment that is living throughout other people’s individual world, is the moment that will cause a ripple, cause a speed bump in our existence. Since speed bumps are only for safety of the world around it, no matter how irritating it is still serving a purpose for the greater good.

What is happening in the world right now are speed bumps provided to us by god with the intention to focus our awareness on something much more important than our day to day lives. To pray for others we have never met, to pray for others before our time and to pray for a world we have never seen.

When we are at a loss with a sense of hopelessness and with a sense of disparity, pray. When we are filled with an immense amount of love and divinity, pray. As it is heard by those who have never walked this earth and those who are on it. We cannot provide more negativity in a moment so dark and heavy. We must bear love and light to guide those lost, to enlighten those in the dark and to hold those who cannot stand. One hundred for one.