"Neither dogma, nor ethics, nor rule-of-law can speak precisely to the unique depths of the individual person. Only myth, in its sweeping ability to constellate an array of contradictory meanings, has the power to awaken, within the private and particular moment, an immediate sense of what matters most." — The Other Within: The Genius of Deformity in Myth, Culture, and Psyche by Daniel Deardorff
I'm not feeling it.
The need to return to my old life.
In fact, I feel like retreating even further into the depths of silence.
Because I can't make sense of anything.
Where does that leave me?
Not quite backed into a corner — not yet anyway — but certainly at increasing odds with so much of the world's man-made stories.
Perhaps that's why, over the period of lockdown, I've spent so much time in nature, and, indeed, my meditation practice (such that it is) now finds me on a solitary bench in the village looking out across the wide-open, heart-lifting Devon landscape.
I'm trying my best to sit with this feeling of emptiness which currently manifests as a lack of energy but I know it can't go on forever.
I can't know and don't know how everyone else is feeling but my instinct tells me I may not be alone.
Is that any consolation?
It's better (from past experience) to sit in silence and let things be as they are but then again, I'd love to understand why now, aged 52, I've no desire to go back to the good ol' days.
That's it today.
Not much I know but it's all I've got.
Much love, Ju