I have spent the past year and a half chasing the wind, looking for my life, and hitting the proverbial brick wall at every turn... sort of. And I have come to the conclusion that whatever it is that we are all looking for, no matter the form, perhaps it just plain doesn't exist. And that MAY be because what we are looking for isn't lost at all, but only appears to be lost BECAUSE we perceive it to be OUT there somewhere, when actually it is right here in our own back yards, under our noses and in our own selves. What if it is the very ACT of searching that creates the loss of the searched-for thing?
I submitted myself to a soul-retrieval session this past week. One of those bizarre things people do, going out and fetching up lost parts of our souls that got stuck in the netherworlds during the miriad of life traumas we humans seem so hell-bent on enduring. We found four of these pieces. All associated with traumatic deaths and losses of loved ones as well as disappointments. I am now a sewn up Frankenstein of person, stitched together, trying to re-member how to be whole again.
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