The Centre of the World

by HelluvaGirl

I have been overestimating the amount of time I have. We are born, we die. And though I've been approaching the simplicity and the marvel of the notion in my own pace since childhood, I still tend to get lost in distractions. I want to hide from my path, the one that has been laid out to me. I've been ignoring the knowing what my destiny was. Well, everything we live out is destiny; however, I mean living to the potential that has been given to me - I am still half-consciously avoiding it. I finally opened that website my yoga instructor has been telling about, and looked at the picture of the ashram her Teacher's been studying at. It was a solitary building shot in the hour of sunrise, somewhere in India. Nothing like I have imagined. I would picture an ashram as the centre of the world in a way, surrounded by busy life of locals, their noise and their jolly ordinary lives - as an island you'd take a hideaway at, as a door you'd shut from everything that's chasing you. As if you were one of the few chosen ones of a bit higher importance. That picture told something else. There's no one chasing you, no one to reject, no one to be told you have some serious shit to do right now. There was no one there, not a single soul, just you and the choice you either make or postpone. That place looked like a mute good-bye to everything you have been - not as a declaration, but as a decision you make silently that nobody cares about. Because the world goes round no matter what you do with your petty realities. Unspeakable loneliness was looking at me in that picture - the real one. Not the one you escape by calling friends, inviting acquaintances over or buying things to ease your hunger. The existential, true and unavoidable loneliness you accept as your path and live unanimously with. A chosen identity that you would keep choosing every single day, every second with all the will power you have, until it breaks all your superficial roles and cleans off your core. Until you are free of identity. It scares me and it breaks my heart because I know how painful transformation is. Doesn't matter if you're a warewolf or a butterfly in the end - it is way easier to take on something when you're clueless.Facebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestmailFacebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestmail
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