Perhaps age is related to what I am going to write, and so, following this new perspective, I recently noticed a shift in my gaze. I started to feel contented whenever I turned back. It usually happened in difficult times, when we don’t know how to leave or stay. Then, one time, while brushing my teeth or something, I looked up in front of the mirror and was surprised — there was contentment there.
Before, looking back was to let myself be enveloped by that kind of dark atmosphere that crept around the corners, with inheritances and beliefs still pending, trapped each other, in a chain that we disguise as we drag around. But then the welcome came, and each link is what it is and it is me. In fact, everything is me. And when I contemplate, everything is transmuted — this is my story.
And the turning of this spiral also took place in meditation, where the process turns in the intertwining of welcoming and surrendering me, love and faith embraced in this child-heart that watches the movement play itself towards the horizon of me, where the flight unpretentious and free insinuates itself — in the present.
In living, the moment is different and the same, and eventually I found myself contemplating my past, my history, my walk, and from there it lit up that contentment. My inheritances, my habits and beliefs, everything that could hold, suffocate was right there, in the evolution of a dance — my dance. And the confidence and hope that walked quietly grew warm, and so the present became — I look back to the past, and I trust, I simply trust the future.
I realize that to free myself from my inheritances is to see and love them in its fullness. They are my memory and my uniqueness. To abstract or transcend them now seems to be an illusion, just as projection or comparison with the future would also be illusory. I do not evolve towards the future, but in the endless present. And hope lives in the present, on that stage where the creation of my memory ballerina takes place — surprisingly, just to content myself.
May 30, 2018.
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