I know that the blogs I write are often contradictory.

I can write about the sweet simplicity of Oneness, while almost drowning in amazement.

And I can whine and complain about, well, whatever.

This is my experience of being.

The only firm ground is being itself, not how I see life.

It’s about more than just being human, a person.

Because I know I am.

I know you are.

More.

All of it.

What I share is how it looks to me at that moment.

Sometimes it makes total sense and I just feel the utter perfection.

Other times the only thing that keeps me sane and grounded is knowing what is true and timeless about me.

I find it terribly confusing to live this life, although it’s not scary.

Just confusing.

Beyond my grasp of knowledge

In the story I am 54 years old, but as consciousness there’s no such thing as age.

I seem to switch or flip or fly from one vantage point to the other, from really zoomed out and totally snug and comfortable, to lost and small and full of doubts.

And then there’s all the writing.

It happens and I don’t know why.

Maybe because it clarifies things.

Maybe because it takes away the restlessness, so it’s actually a way to escape.

Maybe because I simply love the feeling of being lost in creation (I do).

Or maybe there’s no reason at all.

There’s just writing.

Can you imagine constantly having experiences that don’t last long enough to get a solid point of view, a single truth, or a particular way of seeing what’s going on?

That’s what I’m living.

Or seem to live, at least.

The I that sometimes looks and feels like a human, sometimes as an apparent part of everything, and sometimes as a single happening.

I share my confusion, my not-knowing, and my moments of clarity and wisdom.

I share what I see and feel and what looks real to me in the moment.

It’s like an endless hallucination that’s not too exotic.

A constant unfolding, an adventure where I’m always too late to get what’s going on.

When I write this and read it back, I know it can sound crazy, and scattered.

And it is.

In a way.

And in a bigger sense, it’s also a perfect, divinely improvised movement.

I go back and forth, and I tend to hang out in the middle too.

Even though there’s no back and no forth and no middle.

There’s just what is.

Really.

There’s this.

And this is everything I can imagine.

I literally don’t know who or what I am.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by love and connection.

Sometimes it looks like I have to do shit.

Sometimes I’m furious because I don’t get it.

And then I laugh my ass off.

All over the place, but still One.

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(Photo by @nickrbolton, for Unsplash)