I don’t publicize. I don’t share on media. I just write.
If some day this inspires or empowers some curious soul… so be it.
In the meantime… this is NOT about you. It’s about me.
It’s somewhat about what I’ve learned, somewhat about what I have logically deducted, somewhat about what I have, but mostly about what I know.
I don’t know from books… although I’ve learned from them, I don’t know from experimenting with what I have… I know because, sometimes, I can hear the pulse of the Universe. I believe things based on experience… but I continuously doubt my interpretation of them… I even doubt, sometimes, if the experience was real. I only know now… because I hear what I hear now. I write what I write now.
I know I am being in this present continuous. I don’t know who I’ve been or who I will be. I can deduct who I was or will be. I can believe who I was or who I will be. I can construct who I am based on what I have. But I only know I am being. Oh yes! I believe I’m a unique manifestation of Divinity… but all I really know is that I am being now. Oh Yes! I think it makes sense that I am an inmortal soul in transit through this dimension… but I only know that I am being now. Because I can hear myself being in a present continuous.
Sometimes I’m busy deducting or reviewing experiences… or strategizing for the future or lamenting the past. In those moments I can hardly hear that I’m being now. I feel anxiety, fear, anguish, anger, bitterness, frustration, disapointment… and I think it’s me. But it’s not me… it’s not my real voice that is always expressing its awe of being… it’s the voice that wants to accumulate and model my being as if this were possible, and is afraid of waking up to find that it’s not possible.
So… who are you, my curious friend? If I don’t write for you, there is something you can deduct: you are not the reason of my writing.
But you are… the reason of my being. How is that? you may ask. It’s simple: If I were being you, I would not be being me, but even more importantly there would be no me without you, and you and you…. and all yous.
So I write for me, because of you.