Blog

This existential longing that pulls the thread of my being… like a spider web that is weaved into the fabric of space-time.

All paths lead eventually to the centre. To the confrontation with what is or isn’t impermanent…

The continuum we created to identify ourselves with, must one day detangle by the force of the wind, of rain, of nature, of life. And the storm will come, with ferocious spontaneity…

What will we do then, when there is no thread to hold on to?

No web to fall into?

Will we learn to weave in the liminal emptiness again?

All paths lead eventually to the centre… To the Void.

Our Heart itself is the only Home.

There is no certainty.

Whoever we think we are, we are not. Whoever we wish we were, we are not.

When the heart breaks, and the “I” dissolves, we can find ourselves stripped naked from the ideas that created a continuum through memories, dreams, longings…

We are not those either. There is no certainty about who we are from the perception of the “I” that was carefully built to fit the story we wanted to tell ourselves.

Who we are cannot be contained in any descritption that lives in time and space. The truth shines bright when we fall through the abyss and we have nothing but the darkness to hold on to.

Like in meditation, only forgetting ourselves truly opens the door to remembrance. Like upon waking up, in that split second, when we haven’t gathered yet the thought of “me” and “mine”.

That’s the great paradox of questioning “who am I?”. It’s in the searching where we lose ourselves….

I have no answers. I don’t even know if I still have questions. But at last I can just rest in this space between known and unknown.

There is no certainty.