Nothing to say, yet
Transcription
The speaker reflects on their state of resistance and how it creates obstacles in their life. They express a desire to surrender and go with the flow instead of trying to control everything. They question their current way of living and express a longing for excitement and purpose. They acknowledge the fear and reluctance they feel towards change. The speaker also mentions finding moments of freedom in the chaos of someone else's life. They contemplate the need to let go, accept what is, and trust in the bigger picture. They hope that by relinquishing control, they can rediscover a sense of joy and aliveness. I don't know if I'm right, but it seems that my state of resistance creates things that I need to be resistant to. It makes more sense, therefore, to be surrendered, to allow, so that I don't create resistance where none needs exist. I'm fed up with struggling against what I am attempting to control. And while it may end up okay in the end, I'm waiting against the current in order to get to where I think I need to be, and I'm doing it almost with brute force, instead of flowing. I used to flow. I used to know how to flow, to go with the flow, to let things be as they are, to accept that if it's like that, it needs to be. And even if it doesn't need to be, it is. And if it is, rallying against it only creates resistance, which makes it harder. I want to go with the flow. I want to surrender, to let go of having to control, to be in control of what my little, supposedly simple life involves. I can accept many things, allow many things, and yet there are some things I just won't. I'm always looking for the angle. Am I doing it right? Is that the best I can get? Is that the best thing to do? And it seems like there's no answer to that. Sometimes I do it the way I think would make the most sense, only to discover I could have just done it differently and it wouldn't have made any difference. And yet to be in that mindset, to have to control it, to have to make it be the way I've imagined it to be, interferes with how it actually could be, which is so much more. I used to know these things, or at least I used to connect with the teachings that revealed these things. Instead of trying to be at the top of every decision, to be in control of it, to be aware of every possibility and to be certain about what must happen and what will happen, I could be at the bottom. To allow room for everything to come above me that I can't even imagine perhaps. To be surprised and delighted by what seems to be the gift of synchronicity, positivity. Nothing really works for me. Yes, I get by, survive. I'm not really thriving. I'm merely containing the situation. But it doesn't really work and it's very draining. Part of me just wants to let go, surrender, give it, give way, as I once was able to, but I had to be shocked into doing so. I had to be taken to the brink of life's death to be able to truly let go and only then walk the spiritual path, at least for a while, to get a sense of what is it actually like. To be able to let go and trust in the flow, to lead me and guide me and show me and carry me and help me and give me and everything that's needed comes. The rain has just started. And it's not that I expect everything to go my way, because sometimes what looks like it's not going my way is in fact the very thing I need. It's the fact that I judge it and I decide something about it and so I do something to change it, only to discover that I could have left things as they were and it would have been fine. In fact, it might have been better. Have I forgotten so much? Have I lost my way? Gone so far? How can I do this? I'm so alone, controlling everything, but keeping it so simple that I actually can. If there's nothing to do and nowhere to go, then it's easy to control it and I feel like I'm achieving something when actually I'm achieving nothing. I'm merely keeping it going. Why? What for? What am I waiting for? What am I keeping it going for? What's the point? It isn't life. I'm not living. And I can't seem to make that happen. I am open to unexpected, spontaneous when it comes to Kay. Somehow that happens, but that's probably her energy. And I just, for a moment, fall into the glow. I have chosen to be alone, to live alone. I avoid. I resist. I keep everything simple and repetitive and I don't have to think about it. Not thinking about it feels like it's something I benefit from, a state of thoughtless presence. But underlying it, behind it, just out of sight, there's a fear, there's a reluctance that just because something different happens, it can't be right. I must avoid it. I don't want that. I just want what I know. The same thing I did yesterday and the day before that and last week and last month and what I'll do tomorrow and next week and next month and what's the point? What am I waiting for? I used to be open to and receive something that I could just be excited about and get involved in and feel like my life exists. It's real. There's purpose. There's no purpose. I'm just in a metal box in the street, anxious about its degradation, slowly rusting, slowly decomposing. Even the mould is symbolic of that. And so if I can avoid a future and just be in this moment, I think that I'm doing what I need to do but I'm not so sure. I think I'm hiding. I'm avoiding. My head is in the sand. I only want to be in a world that that produces and anything else I turn away from. I don't go anywhere. I'm so afraid to lose my space, even though I have a system of cones that keeps it, which I will use when I have to take it to the garage and which worked every time, last time I did that. I have nowhere to go. Nothing excites me. There's no reason to visit anywhere because the site I'll see will still be familiar in some way and I won't feel settled until I'm back in my spot and can be without having to do all those things. I don't want to drive. I don't want to burn fuel and emit carbon and wear things out. So I just am here and I feel settled. I can come and go as I please, just as I would if I were living in a house or in a room. Come and go. That's what I do. Spontaneously. But in many ways I'm always trying to control what takes place. Brute force. If I can't make it work, I'll make it work. If it isn't happening, I'll make it happen. I won't stop. I'll try this, I'll try that. Sometimes I prevail. Sometimes. Not all the time, but sometimes. I don't want to replace, I don't want to have to spend more money on a thing and yet sometimes I have no choice. But I am reluctant. It gives me little pleasure. Things are imperfect. I am attempting perfection when what's the point because I can never achieve it. To surrender, to give up, having to do that, feels like it's relieving, breathing out. I need it. I haven't had a holiday. I haven't been able to feel free of my life for such a long time. I get little moments of it when I enter the world of Kay and her chaos. Just for a moment I am free of my life and I am completely engulfed by hers. I can only be in it for a short while, but while I am, I am free in many ways. Whatever issues, whatever the van, whatever's going on, it's not really there. It used to be like that just generally. When I was living in America I had so little by way of responsibility. Everybody else, everything else was just taken care of. I would eat, I would go, I would be, I would have and it was just there. And it wasn't good enough. I couldn't hold it together because clearly that's what I was doing. Controlling it, keeping it, holding it tight because the alternative seemed unacceptable. I couldn't even bear to think about it and yet eventually not only did I have to deal with it, but I put myself into a situation that was terribly worse, far, far worse than anything I thought I was experiencing at the time. Talk about from out of the fire into the frying pan, whatever the expression is, out of the frying pan into the fire. I just was burning, constantly burning and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do and I couldn't even really surrender either because I couldn't surrender to what was around me. I just couldn't. I didn't know how to. I'd lost so much of myself. So if this journey has been about finding it again, finding something, I have to accept that what takes place, takes place because that's what has to take place. That there's a much bigger picture going on and even if I can't feel it and see it and know it, I have to try to remember that's what's there, that's what's happening. And maybe if I can stop controlling it, if I can allow things to be as they are, maybe I can find my way through. Maybe life can feel good, alive, exciting again. I'd like that very much. I miss it.
