[coordinates:] Back home to OAXACA! I’m at my proper little breakfast nook with my proper cuppa Fortnum and Mason black tea which I bought at the flagship store in London with these same two hands which are now typing.
It’s so delicious to realize how many different things you’re simultaneous feeling – the collision, the contrast, the layers upon layers. It’s more delicious still to feel simpler. You can feel simpler. I feel simpler still as time goes by. By that I mean I feel, I sense in a more simple way. To feel only the simple anger, not the anger that you’re angry; to feel only the simple sadness, not the sadness that you’re sad, this is freedom. This is the joy of freedom. This is the freedom of joy. The sadness that you’re sad only makes you sadder still. It makes you think the sadness is forever. It’s not. It’s just not. It’s so delicious, in a weird way, to discover you’ve misunderstood joy the whole time. All my life I thought joy was one thing and it turns out to be something else other. Well, maybe I didn’t misunderstand the disinformation about joy as a kid, but at some point the true embodied knowing, the heart cry of “YES, this... THIS is joy.” That understanding so basic that a only a child could truly understand, that understanding was pulled away, perhaps stripped. Joy is under everything. Joy isn’t separate from sadness. Joy and sadness aren’t just the same type of thing each an emotion – they are each other. Sadness can no more be in the way of joy than a forest can be in the way of a tree. Joy and sadness are the same substance. The hilltop that you find here is wildly, wildly beautiful, and painful, and beautiful. For the rare few, this understanding persisted into middle school – rarer still into teenage tumults. Nearly none make it into adulthood intact. If you made it to adulthood with this joy you never will forgot, surely it seems. The beings who know simple sadness and simple anger, know simple joy. Powerful beings are these. The weak are weak, the strong are strong, and all –ALL- are powerful beyond measure, not just in action or deed but in the empancipation of their truth – the thing they came to the planet, to this incarnation to speak and express. They cannot help but do so perfectly. They cannot help but sleep or wake. It’s all the same. It’s all the same. It’s so delicious to realize how many different things you’re simultaneous feeling the collision, the contrast, the layers upon layers. Joy is under everything. Squeeze every different juice of this experience. It soon shall pass. Taste the bitterness and the sweet all as the same substance. It’s all flavor. It’s all layers. It’s all juice. It’s all you – precious, precious you.
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This is beautiful! Just what I needed to read today. Thank you. :-)
I’m reading this on the plane to India to rest my sad/joy dials, and it really hit the spot. Thank you.