Toxic City

It has been a while since I last wrote. I have been on a much-needed hiatus from social media, electronics in general, and most importantly–I’ve been focusing on my health in every aspect. Experiences that highlight our mortality have an interesting way of making us take a long hard look at ourselves.

 

With my mental, physical and emotional health under a metaphorical microscope, it has certainly been a time of deep introspection and healing. It may have something to do with the kickboxing classes I enrolled in, but I’ve really been embracing my inner Buffy and slaying energetic vampires and toxic situations from my life.

 

And in order for one to heal, one must first locate the root of the ailments within. Every so often, you have to go really deep. The sickness must be treated. It must be removed, sometimes with a shaky hand and scalpel, leaving behind a mound of scar tissue.

 

We all hurt. We all have wounds rooted extensively within ourselves. Sometimes it as though we are scanning the ocean floor for a single spec of sand in order to locate the source of our pain. We are powerful and vast beyond measure, as the sea.

 

While at the beach the other day, I watched closely as people took dips within the depths of the source of all there is. As some floated effortlessly with the waves, others took tumbles and lost their shorts in the process. I noticed that it was only when those were not paying any attention to the swell heading their direction or tried to fight the waves, a wipeout would take place.

 

And I couldn’t help but think, this isn’t much different from life, is it? If we are un-present, unaware, and try to resist what is beyond our control, we are guaranteed to wash away. Some of us, never again to return to the surface.

 

It seems we are amongst a time of abysmal addiction. Addicted to our phones, addicted to suffering, addicted to substances designed to make us feel nothing at all as a result of such suffering. With this realization, my heart breaks. Shatters, like pieces of the most delicate china thrown against a brick wall.

 

The traumatic truth that not all of us are equipped to navigate such feels. At least, that’s what we tell ourselves at times. And in those moments, it is our moral duty to love the fuck out of ourselves every chance we get. To love the fuck out of those who are hurting. To set clear, energetic boundaries and have no remorse when untangling cords of venomous vultures of our joy. But, the ability to show up in such ways first begins with the capacity to show up for yourself.

 

I am currently in this interesting place of being addicted to being present. Addicted to learning. Addicted to showing up more. Addicted to healing deeper. Addicted to accepting my completion, embracing my wholeness. Returning to Source.

 

Because at the end of the day, as the sun sets and the ocean glistens like a field of diamonds, that is all that matters. You. Your happiness. And the connection to everything.

 

 

 

 

Image by Pietro Tenuta

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