Monday, July 30, 2012

archeology of self

The reality is that the excavation never stops.  The constant need to have the tools ready.... the tools that search, that dig, that aim to tap that vein of truth, of passion, of self-understanding awaiting discovery inside each one of us.

I slowly chip away at finding and knowing the structure within me.  The bones of my soul.  The calm peace of being in tune and aware and in quiet control.

But I continually feel I dig in dry places, and that my precious time in life is squandered, wasted, by my falsely-guided meanderings.  By the ticking of time my metronome clicks back and forth, one heartbeat at a time, one wreckingball pendulum swung at a time, un-doing the me I thought I was.

The renovations.  The ebb and flow of surely knowing who I was with the inevitable taste of wondering who I am, anyway.

I crumble down.
I start back up.
And I rebuild, with what I have already unearthed.
I brush away at my fossils, at my truths, that I am bringing to life.

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