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Dead Center of My Spirit
Being the most myself
Spirituality is a safe place, the safest haven for me to seek solace in. My heart opens to the space, but it’s always inside, hidden, exposing me to the world.
While I might drive to the river or hide in my room, neither of these places is necessary for me to seek out the peace I need. No one place is who I am, wherever I am. It can’t be. Not when whoever I may be follows me out the door, to the street, into the world.
No costume or mask entombs me or keeps me safe from the outside world. No seclusion protects me from the moments when I can’t keep the pain in.
I am most myself in every free and busy moment that I have. I don’t suddenly wipe off my makeup to reveal the ghoul underneath. Even the moments where I don’t want to admit how many faults I have, how much bad is inside, there is no hiding it. They emerge because being honest is a demand when you know you’re damaged. When you know that hiding from the truth can only hurt yourself and others.
I seek knowledge in myself and others — so that I may always be the person I most am. There is no should be. Shoulds are the haven of people too afraid and give lip service to the things they know would make life just a little easier, even if it is hard in the now.
