I see in myself a holding back. I see in myself a constriction, an inability to relax and experience … a fear.
Of what am I afraid? That if I let go, nothing will be. That if I let go, there will be too much.
I see in myself a closing of doors, because being known is painful, and being real is scary.
What kind of courage does it take to let oneself be seen and touched? To relax one’s eyes and see clarity instead of fuzz? To open one’s heart without immediately noticing and getting in the way, and to communicate with the great?
Sometimes I feel that my inner rooms are messy and unreachable. Sometimes I wonder if I can clip the locks that keep me out. I think of the way that what you need, the secret, is always available, not difficult but immediate.
I wonder how to change worlds. I wonder how to scrub myself clean.
I wonder if I trust myself. I think I don’t. I think that’s the problem.