It's raining, I'm writing.

Technically, it's drizzling. The faint pitter patter of droplets fall gently on the earth outside my office window.

I've just found a long intermission in a seemingly unending conversation. One year ago today was the mountain; Are we back here? Same and different.

Can you please remove your coffee cups? How does such a small request result in a trip up a psychological Everest?

The human experience is crazy... and from a place of healing, beautiful also.

The journey towards self is long and treacherous. At every turn, one wonders if they will lose their identity. But we don't have identity... not in a spiritual sense, anyhow. All we are really, is love. Pure, connected love.

It's the attachments that get us. The expectations. On a lower level, the comparisons, and even lower still, the opinions. The beliefs that we have it figured out (a humorous observation, as I'm writing this as if I understand some things). Maybe I do, maybe not.

That's the paradox, though, isn't it? Being obsessed and convinced of the outcome... but also totally unattached. It's the biblical parable of keeping the storehouse full until He returns. If He does, there's no need for the grains! But if not... well, it's going to be a long winter.

Where's the line? And how do we know when the theoretical Savior is here? In today's world, a return could be any other psyop and in every argument there is a distraction. This post isn't about Christianity; not of some religious body or book, but of the eternal spirit - the consciousness that binds us from the vast ethereal realm to the miniscule space between our cells! Existence, redemption, actualization - how much of it is connected? And if it is, where did it all begin?

The topic is the coffee cups - and somehow it's the nature of humanity. It's the small habits that create big success. It's the minutia that creates the system. It's the coffee cups that matter in a marriage.

Coffee cups equal control. Bullying. Like a single mom not coming to a game means the child isn't worthy. The meaning is in the perspective and the unhealed experience behind it.

How can we wrap others in love when they cling to their pain like a blanket that protected them for years against the danger? Why is letting go so difficult?

Suffering truly is arguing with reality. And deeper still is my favorite question: What do I know to be absolutely true?

Challenging narratives in our mind means almost certain cognitive dissonance. The expansion of mind required to overcome is like heroin withdrawals... or a serious DMT trip.

So you think you want it? Freedom? Joy? It's available, but you must crawl through the tunnel to get it. You must be willing to shed your self along the way, leaving skins behind you as you go, emerging not as a new reptile, but as a new creature. Unrecognizable, even to yourself.

One day you wake up and you realize you have become what you've been working towards all these years. And in this new unfamiliar body, you are home.