A while back someone asked me what was in it for them.
I said ‘nothing’. And left it at that. There was no answer to the question. For that matter, there was no question to answer.
And why would you ask me. I don’t know these things.
There is nothing in it for anyone if you have to ask is all I thought in that moment.
Its the experience of being that is your only reward.
But what does it take to get to that point?
I don’t really know. All I can share are some poorly recalled shadows of the lights I have seen.
For many years I surrounded myself in this dense fog of self-importance.
It had other names, none of which actually matter anymore.
It was very thick and insulated me from both the truth and reality. It protected me from myself perhaps.
All things considered it was not difficult or unpleasant to be in that fog. One simply got used to it. I did.
Then the storm hit. It had been building for most of those many years.
And as I could I would cast the spells to make that storm a tempest of change.
This was not giving up or giving in. This was telling the storm to rage as hard as it could. To take me. I would survive or die.
How much I was aware of that is subject to much debate.
The die die had been cast. Chaos did ensue.
A painful rebirth had begun.
After the wake of the destruction of this storm the fog was gone and there was nothing left but me on a black sand beach.
I was looking at the ocean and listening to the tide. The solitude and peace was alluring.
The sand being pushed by the ever present waves would sing to me.
I could feel the presence of more than me. At times laughing. At others crying. But with me.
I could only only hear whispers of the music.
But hear it I did.
I no longer needed the fog. I was injured. But alive. I was alone and fine with that. I could only cause myself pain was part of my thoughts.
More than anything else. I wasn’t afraid anymore.
Fear had simply grown old and died a long overdue death.
That was was a new sensation. To not be afraid of all I did not know. That I could not control.
There was freedom in this.
I had left the cloud. I was alone. Sometimes with others. But mostly with myself.
Hundreds if not not thousands of events would play over in my head. This was unexpected and required.
All aspects and shades of my past would mock my weakness for leaving them. For choosing life.
Some of them taunting me back. Some pushing me forward.
Most of them simply asking why are you here now.
Are you ready to leave the fog?
Have you seen enough?
It is your choice. But you always knew this.
I chose to leave the fog.
And to be honest, I don’t know why.
To leave so many things behind.
To be free of myself.
To find experience.