Lost

I believe there is a persistent, little voice inside all of us. I like to think of this as our soul calling to us, telling us what we should do, not as an authoritative entity, but as a gentle push, nudging us towards who we are supposed to be, towards alignment.

As a 15 year-old boy, I remember feeling this voice but never being able to follow it. This wasn’t a matter of trying harder. The wall between us was simply too tall and thick, so the only thing I could think of doing was continue trying.

After years of trying to unearth this "me" and thinking I was failing, I believe I now know what was happening.

"Following your heart" is seldom a trivial pursuit. That wall, which was too tall and thick, had to be chipped away slowly. Every time I thought I was failing, what was actually happening was that I was either building better tools for the job or the flake was too small for me, at the time, to notice.

Throughout the years the wall became less sturdy, more brittle. I could make contact with "myself" more and more often. A grueling, necessary, and beautiful process for self-actualization. A process that I am certainly not done with.

So what is this wall? Well, as far as I am aware, I don't think there is a definitive answer to this question. I'll tell you what it was and still is for me and perhaps it may resonate with you. The wall's building blocks consist of: familial and societal conditioning, trauma and the responses learned through it, and general upbringing.

All the building blocks that make that wall make us deny part of ourselves because we are taught they aren't suitable for this world and should be hidden. We learn to hide them, either consciously or otherwise, and even forget about them. However, I ascertain that our essence is resilient, it doesn't go out that easily. Its flame surely can be made to be smaller. So small in fact that its warmth isn't felt even to ourselves.

Although the flame can be starved for decades, sometimes it is fed. This can happen during conversations with friends, when reading a book, listening to music, or simply when we are alone with ourselves. It may take awhile, but if you try to grab on to it again and again, you may find that someday its grabbing you right back and you'll know that it never quite let go.

I was out in the sea searching for me

But as time went on, all I could find were copies of me

I was starved and parched

But when I cupped the water from the sea

A freshwater spring was presented to me

And instead of salty water,

I grabbed the hand that had been waiting for me

With Love,

João M. M.