Fall.
Into the depth of our souls.
That’s what you want.
That’s what you want for yourself, right?
To be intertwined with a soul,
that soul,
another soul
and free falling,
from presence into presence.
Always.
Always, like there’s nothing else, because there isn’t.
And truly,
Me too.
But I can’t.
Yet.
I can’t because I never have.
I jumped out of a plane once.
My soul was safely resting in my head.
My skull,
and in the thing inside it that kept me afloat until now.
Until yesterday.
Until the long gone yesterday when I found out that my skull is not the armor to my flesh but the prison to my soul.
So I drop,
not fall,
I safely drop.
Into my body.
Into my present body.
The container of my past,
the key to my future.
The fall.
That’s still what you want,
What I want.
Not because it means us,
there’s no us in soul.
Not because it means me,
there’s no me in soul.
Because it means freedom.
Because it means peace.
Because it means presence.
So I drop.
And slide and sink and flow.
Deeper.
Day by day.
You helped, actually.
Don’t pride yourself, it’s painful, or maybe do.
It’s the necessary pain.
The good pain.
Not the stone cold, knee-on-concrete-pain,
it’s the look-at-what-kept-me-from-letting-go-pain,
from-finding-freedom-pain,
from-finding-peace-pain,
from-finding-presence-pain,
from-falling-pain.
It’s not you who decides,
It may not even be me.
But I will,
fall.
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