Being.

I thought I’d write again today. With so much noise, in one’s own head, in day-to-day activities, online, all around me, even waking me in the night sometimes with thoughts that won’t settle, worries that perpetuate, it can become almost addictive or automatic to not stop. I don’t know about you, but I am a social media junkie and I thirst for information that keeps me in a loop of curiosity and solution searching. This behaviour of mine allows me to form opinions and I’m never short of something to say after a few wines at a party. I delve into topics headfirst. Usually obsessing over one or two subjects until I get bored and rotate back round to another one of my interests. With all of this information at my disposal on any subject one may have a desire to know more about, have I become so good at telling that I have lost the art of just being? Could just being be what I am searching for and what my PDAer needs from me?

There are many influences out there, on the outside, to turn my head, alter my self-image, form my belief’s, bestow my values and cause my expectations. I gather parts of those inspirations and experiences and make them my own. Sub consciously most of the time, piling on the shoulds and should nots and wearing them like badges of honour. From my upbringing to my community. My ancestors and my history. Readily soaking up ideas from other cultures and countries, from the programs I watch, to the language I use, until the lines that used to define me become blurred and joined, making me more similar each day with views that seem accepted rather than having courage to speak views that clash and cause uncomfortable feelings within. Who am I?

But wait, I have two teachers. They are my children. They hold a mirror to me and invite me to step through to another way of thinking about things. They show me where I can improve, and they allow me to be. For I am not just their teacher, contrary to popular belief, we are each others teacher. Children are less spoiled, less confused. They are pure, magical souls with so much love, so much goodness. Conditions do not hinder them when they are tiny, they are perfect. It’s just me and all of those outside influences that slowly add up and begin to hide the pure light in the middle of it all. I was them once. I’m still in there, somewhere, searching to be free once more.

I think my favourite part of being so close to PDA, is witnessing and being part of something fresh, something so authentic that it cannot be moulded or watered down. A strong sense of self that has a kind of invisible wall around it that nothing is going to manipulate or change. It can be so frustrating sometimes, the steadfast, the unmoveable, the headstrong, the predictable unpredictability. But also, so beautiful when I discover that just being is the gateway to a world of wonder and inner peace. The noise and the chatter melts away and I can just hold witness to my own ever evolving time travel. My inner little person never goes away and my extension of me in the eyes of my children, reminds me who I am. That I don’t need to be anything else other than to just be.

When the art of being is truly mastered, this is the place that I am me. PDA takes my hand and shows me myself. And when I am myself, just myself, I ask nothing of anyone and nothing upsets me. Individuality melts into oneness because there is no more noise, there are no more worries, just for a moment.

Until the next time.

Thanks for reading. LOVEPDA. xx