I don’t think I ever set out to be anything. I set out because it’s who I am. I’m like an explorer. When even the ship sinks I’ll find my way to some kind of land and keep walking.

I didn’t set out to be anything. I set out to set out. I still set out.

Memories are realizations of realities just behind the surface. Something had to crack to know it wasn’t so real after all. There was a big beginning and by no means an end.

I cannot be the only one like me…someone who woke up from the dream. Waking up is exceptionally ordinary. Someone who after waking up again and again reconciles realizations and adapts. Someone with a thirst for understanding who must then decide what must go for the new, while understanding maybe something of its relevance and irrelevance in the living picture. Someone a bit learned at hellos and goodbyes and who feels more deeply from day to day. I never thought that could be possible yet I didn’t hold myself back with that kind of doubt.

In the search for meaning we go in. In the act of life we involve and relate…we learn. We understand how chaotic life can be and the (if we are so “lucky”) unimaginable gold of stillness from where it may arise… and what it tells us about our ideas of the Self or reality (this living universe). We embody both experiences and the spectrum all at once. Life can be unimaginably complicated and also so simply beautiful that we realize how delicate and worthy of nurture it is.

To look more deeply is to understand more of what looking really means. What is to perceive and from where does all come? What is the all after all? Does anything hold it together or could it just be phenomenon from a certain perspective? What could these questions tell us about our underlying beliefs and our subconscious agreements about what “real” is?

Fanciful circles of speculation are tantalizing for the intellect. I wonder if some have made lives and careers of it. Saying buzzwords that barely describe the surface could lend someone a title of “expert”, if they have the audience conducive to that effect. Even the intellect can make something of itself and believe it is something. We could be careful to not have even that as a master. Experience is more true.

To be is greater than to know. To know is not to “think on”, because even a camel can hold water, but a camel hasn’t learned to speak your language to describe the functions of the universe.

The mysteries are something that reveal themselves in language of the soul. The soul hears and speaks on its own terms in its own time. This is why it cannot be commercialized, owned, ruled, regulated, and fully explained or comprehended. It is a composite. Alive. Living, and thus growing and expanding as it experiences and realizes itself.