There comes a time when even the razor's edge becomes pointless. When you understand that the alertness and hyperconnectivity it requires means nothing.
From one angle, it appears as if I am a middle-aged, overweight, middle class public servant. From another, it's a cow that finally stopped running alongside the herd in that small pack called shamanic and just said okay fine i'll go and let the winds and momentum take her over the cliff. From another it's madness. From another it's just a quiet life in a new home with a new garden with over half an acre for kitty hijinks.
It's so weird to stop creating stories. It's so weird to be in this space of whistling air. So weird to care so little, to have released hope so fully, that going with the flow of what "Life" wants becomes the default.
There's still some struggle. Not sure what to do with it except to let itself play out. It's still often scary to see things as they really are/aren't. Because there is nothing to be done. When the truth is seen, it's so complete, so 360, so 24/7, so 100, that it leaves you gobsmacked. Of course it does. It's why most people turn around and try and head back.
The process isn't done over here. And so the only thing to do is release into further.
No clues other than the fact that this body is still alive, the mind still clicks along, the sound of the human heart grows fainter and fainter.
It's true: why folks who don't have to shouldn't. If you can avoid it, defintely go that way. But if the splinter in your mind is driving you crazy, come on out here. It's so wild, so vast, you can't even imagine. I'm here, and I still don't know what to do with what is seen.
Still glad it comes with kitties, though. Kitties are fun to travel through space with.