My life has taken on a strange flavor. I don't recognize it. I don't recognize me. Although I am who I am and nothing has changed. And yet everything has changed.
Last week, I had a vision. Tiny drop of water. Swirling in an eddy. Deciding to change where she flowed. The drop cuts across the flows. Finding a new one. Realizing in cutting across the flows, she will find herself in a strange land. Even as she heads to a strange new flow. And indeed I have found myself in a strange land. While in my own land.
Over the past couple month, some people who were very important and vital to me and my life for several years, have evaporated and gone. Strangely, I do not pine for them in their absence. Perhaps our time together is up. I know if they are important, we will find ourselves in the same space/time again. But that time is not now.
In the meantime, I am crossing the streams. I am finding myself in a strange land. With strange words. Strange rituals. Familiar roads, streets show me a new view. Los Angeles unveils a different side.
I take it in. Despite speaking another language, I understand. I hear what it is telling me. I'm surprised. Surprised that I'm so comfortable in this world. Some past self wouldn't be. Would run away from it. An echo of that past self wonders: What the hell am I doing? The present self answers: I have no fucking clue. I'm no where near where I thought I would ever be, but I'm ok with that. I have no agenda. This road leads somewhere, and I don't really care where.
I would be the same whether I walked a road whose destination I thought I knew; or a road whose destination was unknown. The destination is not the journey - its the way one is during the journey that is my practice.
And so I continue to surrender. I am who I am. This does not change. I know I'm phase shifting. I trust where I will end up, and even so, if that even matters, I trust the way I'm walking the path. How I am crossing the stream.