My place and yours.
Where does it all fit? There are so many puzzle pieces. Those that I have thought I found a place for suddenly reappear in a different light. The edges more jagged, the picture sometimes more clear than it ever was, making me realize that I had misplaced it in the grander scheme of things. I am asking for some kind of higher light, often, to show me where to put such deliquent pieces.
As it stands, while my society and world around me are an overwhelmingly large puzzle, I myself am a puzzle as well. I do not know where I came from, for the most part, and I do not trust that all that could be told to me on a regular basis is being revealed. I am always given half of the pieces to work with to assemble the picture, and half of the time. Often, I find myself straining, and then pulling the pieces from myself to reassemble them into the frame. I am my own microcosm. I need more from the outside, though, or the material will be strained, and one day I will just cease to be coherent.
Nowehere is it found the complete answer. This is something I know. This is why I must continue to search and place, find and remove, transfigure and transmutate, stack and juxtapose all that I am, all that I will be, and all that I have been. Guides are not made for this. Some people will argue that religion can be a wonderful owner's manual. I, however, argue, that religion has done nothing as a one-way-fits-all for the dynamic and individual eternal puzzle. The words are static, but the project is ever changing. If anything else, one must find a means to continuously upgrade and shed the husk of the useless, all while keeping within the bounds of everything else doing the same.
Invariably, I am constantly enlightened, and constantly confused. I do not know who I should be speaking with on a regular basis or who I should be speaking things to that could determine another placement. All I have is intuition. Intuition, that, when listened to, serves me incredibly well. All within an unconscious that ultimately is what makes my placement, I am desperately trying to find the outlets and the inlets so that I can sleep better at night.
My unconscious can talk all it wants, but I cannot do anything about it until I find a way to amalgamate it into my conscious. Perhaps what I have been learning these last months have finally come to pass as the way I have been looking for.
As it stands, while my society and world around me are an overwhelmingly large puzzle, I myself am a puzzle as well. I do not know where I came from, for the most part, and I do not trust that all that could be told to me on a regular basis is being revealed. I am always given half of the pieces to work with to assemble the picture, and half of the time. Often, I find myself straining, and then pulling the pieces from myself to reassemble them into the frame. I am my own microcosm. I need more from the outside, though, or the material will be strained, and one day I will just cease to be coherent.
Nowehere is it found the complete answer. This is something I know. This is why I must continue to search and place, find and remove, transfigure and transmutate, stack and juxtapose all that I am, all that I will be, and all that I have been. Guides are not made for this. Some people will argue that religion can be a wonderful owner's manual. I, however, argue, that religion has done nothing as a one-way-fits-all for the dynamic and individual eternal puzzle. The words are static, but the project is ever changing. If anything else, one must find a means to continuously upgrade and shed the husk of the useless, all while keeping within the bounds of everything else doing the same.
Invariably, I am constantly enlightened, and constantly confused. I do not know who I should be speaking with on a regular basis or who I should be speaking things to that could determine another placement. All I have is intuition. Intuition, that, when listened to, serves me incredibly well. All within an unconscious that ultimately is what makes my placement, I am desperately trying to find the outlets and the inlets so that I can sleep better at night.
My unconscious can talk all it wants, but I cannot do anything about it until I find a way to amalgamate it into my conscious. Perhaps what I have been learning these last months have finally come to pass as the way I have been looking for.