What I always wanted

What I always wanted was to completely change and transform my reality. I knew there had to be something pure, powerful, and wholly good; a true happiness I could somehow reach.

That’s how it feels when I let go of my old stories about everything in my reality. When I let go and let my mind soak in relief.

How do I bring this into my everyday life? How do I embrace it more fully?

I think the answer is: keep doing it. Don’t stop. Stop the heavy, leaden thoughts before they even arise. Don’t interrupt your relief for anything. Because nothing benefits when you retell the old stories.

This relief is the relief of being “in the moment”. The moment is all you ever have, that’s why losing it to old stories of past and future feels bad.

But what you have in the moment is…your whole entire being, your spirit, your life, the stream of joy and appreciation that is always flowing to you and through you.

In the moment your most profound happiness is fully available to you, and the circumstances and conditions of reality must change to reflect the happiness we allow.

This momentous joy may not match what we thought would bring happiness. But most of our thoughts of happiness are entangled with thoughts of unworthiness and burden and necessity anyway.

If you can let go of your story, give your mind the relief of being outside the story, then you have the vantage point of eternity.

Stay there, breathe it deep, and make relief your resting place. Let relief rewrite your story one moment at a time. Let relief be the plot and the theme and the setting and the protagonist.

Let relief tell you what is possible, and stay there as much as is possible for you right now, without beating yourself up for when you forget it and go back to old habits of thought.

Why does letting go feel so good?

Why does letting go feel so good?

Because I’m holding on to falsehoods and untruths.

The more relief I feel, the better this world looks to me. I could even end up liking this place.

I took the holy men seriously when they said a pilgrimage to some sacred space will do you no good if you cannot find holiness at home.

But home itself is more about the story you tell than any physical locale.

Everything around you can be seen from infinite different angles and endless new contexts. “Here” is all in how you choose to see it.

Why do we love holidays if not for the break we take from our own story? We see someone else’s home with a stranger’s vantage. We give it the benefit of the doubt.

My relief at letting go is so palpable, can I not bring this home? Be the same person with a new mind; pause the story and put it on hiatus til the new chapters come to me.

If I were a character this part of my arc would be a mysterious journey in the mountains with some monkish mentor, resulting in transformative self-discovery.

I’ll make do sitting under a tree while a gardener meanders by, leaf-blower buzzing, filling the air with two-stroke fumes.

You can hear a sutra in it, the guttural drone of Tibetan lamas. It’s the right pitch and harmonics abound within it.