A mind minding herself
On the verge of something which has never been before
Born into various war zones, thrown between repressive and explosive types of oppression, by now, there are parts of me that feel pretty exhausted, nearly ready to give up.
I question myself, my truth, even my right to exist.
When I am in those states I need to justify every breath, push forward in a race for improvement, anticipate what might be asked, what might be accepted, what might sell. By now it’s a completely internalized undercurrent of fear that accompanies almost every new daring in my expression.
To make my voice matter, I strive not just to be heard, but to prove that I deserve to, that I am not less worthy than others but more — only then do I believe I deserve to participate, to lead, to be supported, to matter.
Yet also within me, I keep a precious treasure, a unique, radiant, living inner flower. My own vision of what life actually is, a sense of how love really feels, and an unshakable knowing of who I am.
The time has come to recognize who I have always been. And yet, this is not merely a resurgence.
It is a whole new emergence.
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It’s not just about setting new rules to the game.
It is not even just a new game.
The entire board is coming alive.
The mind is minding herself.
And if I am ready, I can elevate unto the seat of creative reconfiguration.
And the best part?
When I do, I know I will find you.
And when I say you I mean Me, and when I say Me I mean US.
Yet all this comes with a cost. To reach those deep seated treasures, those quite concrete bits of guidance, light, information -
we must make our way alone through the caves of our own personal demons first.
We must face the forces that suffocate our creativity and drain our life. We must admit to our hidden self-sabotage, our internalized abuse, our latent suicidal despair - “This is too much!” And it is. No more pretending. No more false light and love. We must include it all as our own.
We must admit: by this point in history, we can’t recognize our own face. Our desires have been programmed into us. We have forgotten how it feels to create for the joy of it - replacing it with strategy and commodification.
It is a brittle moment.
It is neither easy nor safe.
Support is valuable, but in the end, each must go through the maze on their own.
And when we do, we see it all - the demons blood fests lurking through the vast fields of the collective unconscious. For too long, these forces have remained unseen, driving humanity into cycles of greed, revenge, and genocide.
We must not close our eyes,
The pressure is rising.
The personal cracks open to reveal the collective. The deeper we allow ourselves to see, the more we can feel into the collective streams and by being witnessed and engaged with - they get redirected.
It is up to us to recognize and claim what ours to carry — to illuminate the sins and shadows of our bloodlines, the occupations of our minds, lands and people, the unfathomable ignorance of our species.
To witness, to name, to bring it into a form that is distinct than mine - without disowning or pushing it outside of my awareness.
This is a delicate balance, an introverted activism that could alter humanity’s trajectory.
Or, is it just mine’s?
In the darkest of times, a new tone is heard - to which I tune the string that is being strung; between the ocean of unity and my own personal god plucking a decisive moment - and through that string, finally, my true voice appears.
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Join me on SUBSTACK - and follow my journey to liberate my own voice, to ponder through the meandering paths of our current collective challanges - TO WEAVE A NEW SOUND REALITY!