My beautiful younger sister asked me what it feels like to go all-in? It’s an all out war sis, a battle I’m losing. I’m badly wounded and my soul is dying. Don’t come outside, please don’t. It’s not safe and I don’t want you to see me like this; I didn’t even put up a fight, I thought I tried or sorry, I told you I tried but really I let him take me; the reaper. Just let me go with perceived dignity that I tried, fighting for family, honour and glory, I died in the heat of battle; what a lie.
I told you to stay inside; it’s not a pretty sight. The Liar is a savage, stripping me of all the qualities I’ve tried to shield myself with. It wasn’t enough; I’m being relentlessly raped. Damn, I really thought I protected and put myself together well enough this time around.
There in lies the problem, I, I, I put it together; of course it wouldn’t be enough.
If “Adversity is like a strong wind. That tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are” Than who am I? Don’t answer that.
“It’s not my fault!” The winds were strong this time around, like a tornado… Another lie. The wind was blown from the bowels of beautiful women softly in my direction.
My layers were easily thrown off, like I wanted and was helping to take them off. I was helping.
“Here, here, please take my mask of courage, my cheap armour of thankfulness, my sorry shield of positivity, my soulless shoes of imagination and ripped undergarments of belief. Ah, that feels more familiar…”
In sorry sis, I don’t know what it’s like to go all-in. I lost pieces of me in my past and all-in is no longer possible. Similarly, if you were to have sex before marriage it would be impossible for you to go all-in; your heart is not enough.
My gambling started when I was 13, risking my hands for popularity. I lost both hands, later on my feet in a dice(y) game of lust and so on and so forth, I kept losing pieces of myself to vices of what I wanted to think victory represented, until I was a hobbling on my stumps into a fight finally worth fighting for. It reminds me of Monty the Python; I guess it’s a funny sight to watch, but when you’re the “knight” in rusted armor, being mocked by life, for everyone to see, as you muster up some effort, not nearly half of what it should be; it’s humiliating.
I couldn’t, I can’t, give it my all, because The Liar has half of me, and is planted firmly in my heart.
I guess I can tell you what it feels like to give half – hearted efforts; it feels pathetic. (Then why is this so comfortable?) It feels like something is missing and I can’t close the gap.
I know I’m supposed to lean on god to close the gap but I’ve distanced myself so far from him over the years, when I went to lean, the gap was too wide and I fell flat on my face. Perhaps my falling is because I fail to accurately understand what a relationship with God looks like. My idea, looks like Robin Williams from Aladdin; just grant me three wishes and I’ll leave you alone. Or even better, my faith looks like a buffet; I only believe in what I feel like, picking and choosing passages appropriate to my appetite.
[Same metaphor different usage] My eyes have always been bigger than my stomach, haven’t they? and this just another realization of the same. I cooked this up and I can’t even get half way.
Recipe for success
- 1 Habit
- 12 Disciplines of the spirit
- 7 cups of Routine
- Mix until you have Consistency
I don’t possess such ingredients. Ugh, I can’t even get the first one right; I haven’t been able to make a habit stick, none of the good ones at least. I’m trying to decipher why? Is my extreme personality to blame? Do I burn myself out going to hard, getting addicted to things? That eventually the pendulum swings and I find myself way out here, in India, lying on my back, fatter than fat, looking to this screen, punching letters ferociously.
They say (I really want meet They) the desire to quit is the greatest right before you’re about to succeed. But I’ve wanted to quit for so long; what does it mean? To be bobbing around, wallowing in your own blood, the blood of a quitter? I haven’t quit yet though, but maybe I’ve done too much damage, too much wallowing, too much nothing, to make something of this, of Myish? Maybe if I wrote fewer blogs and worked harder on my business…
Hey don’t feel bad, it’s okay, I’ll figure it out. I was born to burden much, I’ve been praying for wisdom since we were young, asking god to make me a warrior; who knew the transformation would be this tough. It’s my fault, I asked for this and I need to bare the task #TheDoorOfDreams. I never thought the search for wisdom would take me all the way to the deserts of the east; Kashmir, just to find the saffron was inside me the whole time. I’m sure you knew that already. You’ve been all-in since we’ve been young and you never flickered. He’s All-in side of and completely alive in you; It looks beautiful. Can you tell me what that feels like?
