“Baby,” I said, “I’m a genius but nobody knows it but me.”
― Charles Bukowski,
We hide way, afraid to show up as true self.
When we do come alive (in a state of flow or being turned on to something larger than ourselves), we’re afraid to say too much for fear we might never again discover the mythos.
In case you need reminding, you’re dying…one day at a time; and if you keep putting things off, before you know it, it’ll be too late to explore the territory of your soul.
This doesn’t mean you have to leap around like a crazed lunatic, but instead to move towards — often inwards — something that brings joy to your life.
For me, even a walk close to Dartmoor is enough to remind me that there’s more to life than work, which seems to have dominated my life. Or, that I’m no more than this, this moment in all its wonder and beauty.
Actually, I wouldn’t buy any of this — certainly not the thinking part. I’d just do something for the hell of it and see if life is made real.
But then again, sitting still, closing your eyes and breathing can be just as monumental.