There is a beauty in silence.
A peace in internal solitude.
A quiet reckoning with life.
I’m thinking about disappearing.
Shutting down all of my platforms.
Sitting in silence.
Listening for my God.
I don’t know for how long.
I feel blessed.
As I wait.
I listening for the whispers.
To live in the presence of Glory.
I anticipate something beyond ANY prayer I have ever prayed.
A version of me is manifesting.
A me I have never known.
A me created eons before my torrid conception.
What if every accomplishment, tether to a wound, where no more?
What if everything I identified as myself, disappeared?
ALL I have identified as “me.”
Where would “I” exist?
Who would “I” be?
What could I become?
I don’t know.
I can’t fathom.
What I do know is this:
I. Love. God.
That knowing turns the crucifixion of all my “selves” from quiet grieving into a gentle grace.
So I go within.
I retreat into myself.
To dismantle myself.
I make home in God.
Not the “mes” I identify as who I am.
But rather with the “me” that was created.
Before I was born.
There is a me before the pain of being birthed.
A me before “I” began.
Before consciousness and language.
Beyond space and time.
There is a me that is not my body.
There is no “me” at all.
Just a series of survival-based behaviors that are socially rewarded, mentally exhausting, spiritually depleting, or emotionally punished.
Me, myself, and I do not exist.
So I go within.
To evolve into that which was created before I was in my mother’s womb.
Evolving. In reverse.
Back to Source.
Embraced by “I am.”
Simply put: I’m going home.
(And I’m taking Happy with me. )