G-d is Pressure pt. II

Go back to My Writing

I haven’t been too afraid of the dark lately. More than being scared, I find comfort in the possibility that there is something behind the veil. I have spent so long trying to shed a light on the path that I ended up forgetting that, every now and then, walking with eyes closed is enough.

It’s been some time I have been trying to gather the shards of a previous existence. Such a mission, however, is bound to fail: there is no use in trying to fix a unity when the direction that should be traveled is exactly the opposite. I gave so much for keeping my head above the water that I forgot it is on water that life is created, on earth it evolves, on fire it ends and on air it unweaves.

What once helped me keep on living is now of no service to me. My magical thinking tendencies are getting in the way of my ability to see reality as it is, and at such times when it is so palpable, I see myself trying to escape into the hopes of a new ephemeral adventure, like a match that has been lit but its flame is of limited time length.

Back then, I spent hours trying to understand, to see how it could have been. I have cried for hours thinking that I’ve hit the bottom of the well. Somehow I slowly realized it was a fake bottom that soon gave in, throwing me into the deep waters; deep enough to scare me with the possibility of drowning.

At this sorry state, the walls of the well are too high to climb and the waters too deep for my feet to touch the ground. Nevertheless, I know that, somewhere deep, there is an aperture through which the water comes in. Sadly, according to my circumstances, that may be the only way out. Not up, but down, until I can find the current.

I acknowledge this seems like a suicide mission. But alas, at such a desolate place in existence, there is no rescue team to come and save me. The only option I have is to follow my own conviction, even if it gets me killed at the end.

I’m tired of fighting with broken bones from the frequent floods and droughts I have been surviving in hopes of getting some sense of stability. It’s too late to go back but also too soon to end it. I have a lot to lose, but if Death is what awaits me, I still have no regrets. Isn’t that the point, after all? To live a life worth dying for.

If I ever intend to get out of this well, the way up is down. And if there is something bigger than all of this, if there really is something behind the veil, then I know the rivers of serenity are real, for I can constantly feel its pressure on my Crown.