The Untouched Whole

My life is a fleeting moment in time. It is small and insignificant in the grand universe, like a star in the vastness of the sky. Yet, it steps into a new dimension of space that no other has stepped into before. The time, destiny, and chance of your being are purely coincidental. It feels surreal, as if the universe is one big television show in which one is acting in a role that is being witnessed from the outside. The everyday backdrop of the sky is one big beautiful painting that one cannot go beyond.

One goes through a sensory experience of feeling, peeling, and knowing of the layers that wrap tightly and comfortably around one’s soul. These layers are like bandages that protect your wounds, holding and defining you, inscribed with messages of how you believe you should be. They are wrapped around the heart like a helix, seeming as natural as DNA. Yet you realise these wounds are illusory and what remains inside was whole all along. The bandages that once seemed to guard the soul rather suffocated what was to be found inside. One has to let the soul breathe, and be still amidst the chaos and fear of the world. The fragile heart is strong and independent.

This realisation is an eruption, like a shell breaking open to reveal it’s pearl, an organism that has begun to realise it’s true worth. One feels a glimmer of this realisation through sex, as the beauty of one’s body is exposed and comes into form, admired and appreciated as it was meant to be.

The bandages of the heart move and jump into the air, like a heavy garment being taken off. This movement reveals glimpses of the truth in the spaces between them, granting us moments of clarity greater than those given by any lens. With our own eyes, we witness our very selves  from both the outside and the inside. We return to the sweet child nature of how we once were. We stand naked, at one with the earth.