Lost in my mind
I spend a lot of time lost in my mind.
I zone out, I get lost in my thoughts, in my memories, choices, hopes, intuitions and desires.
We all have a purpose of some sort.
Some of us, they are artists, creating great works marvellous and multifaceted.
Some of us, they are healers, mending wounds, stretching scars, soothing aches.
Some of us, they are fighters, for a cause, a purpose, an idea or a principle.
Some of us, they are seekers of… something. Perhaps trying to find a purpose of their own, perhaps looking for a love or a connection that will heal.
Some of us, they spend their time healing themselves. Fighting for themselves. Creating themselves in the image of their desire.
I zone out a lot. I get lost in my thoughts, my memories, my choices. My hopes and intuitions and desires. All these little thoughts, all at once, hundreds, sometimes thousands a minute.
We all have a choice. We can stay on the path chosen for us, or adjust the course. Direct our thoughts, and our selves, towards a goal of our choosing.
I keep reflecting on myself, of all these little moments and things that have made me whom I am now. I find myself lacking in so many ways, and never knew how to proceed. I didn’t know my purpose.
As is so often the case, I write paragraphs while aiming for brevity. Some of you will relate quite dearly with this. An old partner of mine, now fully parted, summed up my struggle better than I could ever do.
I don’t know if she would allow me to share it. Her words cleared a lot of confusion.
My purpose is not the intellectual, laden down by thoughts. My role is not the monk, hidden in the folds of their mind. My role is not the martial artist, perfecting the art of the body in the only way he knows. These are only roles, aspects of myself.
Steps on the path.
My purpose is that of teaching. Nothing so grand or particular as a singular subject, but rather the art of, well, life.
Taking care of yourself and those around you.
Cooking a meal. Cleaning the floor. Taking out the garbage. Shoring up the walls. Opening the doors.
Some of these I know. Many I need must practice further.
“In the end, only three things matter:
how much you loved,
how gently you lived,
how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.”