I clench my jaw as if I’m attempting to hold onto something but there is nothing to hold onto other than my own Self. I see death clearly; I see it as a part of life but the not-knowing tortures me when I let it. When I ignore my Higher-Self (my creative genius) a neurosis attempts to take place, old habits grow strong and old stories brew but being present I see right through; my conditioned state still partially suffers but the body doesn’t respond like it used to. Ailments then appear where I hold my pain: my throat, my pelvis, my tight chest. When I ignore my creative genius, my productive habits become shunned and negative patterns of thought take place; this all stems from an unstable sense of self, or an uneasy ego. It’s the identification with the ego that causes unnecessary suffering – it’s the fearfulness to failure and the unpredictably of life itself that evokes my self-perpetuated suffering. It’s funny how I love writing mystery and embracing mystery when I have control over the plot. But in a sense, we are the writers of our own life – we create where we the characters end up. Just as morals have empty values when agreed upon with superficial collectivity, the emptiness of a character can be determined by the lack of individuality one chooses to not cultivate.

I’ve been stifling my genius while attempting to heal the old habits that have temporarily arisen. Death seems to come up again and again when I choose to not remain consciously productive towards my Higher Self. It’s as if my internal universe of creativity is speaking to me and telling me to continue, taunting me through means of my ego – the ego is a valuable tool because despite the conditioned states of being through developed consciousness, the ego directs you to where you are supposed to be; it works with the Higher Self to deliver individualized greatness while paradoxically taunting it. If I wasn’t so mindful and keen to this I would not know; I feel a majority of the world has this problem. They mask their higher Self not only with neurosis but with technological, pharmaceutical and negative-based distractions – there’s no balance, structure, or determination to understand their conditioning, therefore they live life through false means and thus lack character. The jaw holds on to all its lost as if it’s going to lose it again. Nothing can be lost because there is nothing. And nothing is nothing; but that nothing is something. Anything that can be spoken upon is something and even things that cannot be are something: a mysterious nothing.Through the journeys of time, the past is irrelevant but it makes the present seemingly real. The future beholds something that is equivalent to the lucid dreams we subject ourselves to each night that we let our ego die. The present, the absolute present, beholds something unspeakable; it is this time machine of fate that leads us nowhere other than the very moment absent of constructed time to something greater than this material world.

From my practice of mindfulness meditation, I’ve learned these major principles: the ego has a mind of its own yet it is intertwined with our mind, the ego is a great tool if used properly, the attachment to our identity and all of our past traumas and fears of the future and unknown attempt to drown out the voice of Absolute Present that is the Voice of Reason and Non-Reason – sometimes I let my ego run and I observe it but the adrenals in the body are not excited, maybe momentarily but for the most part, the heart doesn’t palpitate, the breath doesn’t become frantic, my pulse doesn’t rise – it’s in the frantic mind and I’ve separated it from my body. And though my jaw has been clenched because of a supposed fear of death and the unknown, the journey to darkness, I truly feel that the clenching, the anger, the grief, held within my throat and mouth is truly this right here; it is what I am writing now, it is me drowning myself in old habits and fears, procrastinating from my higher calling, from the very thing that gives my butterflies and euphoric electricity when speaking upon it. It is the Creativity that is being smothered by my ego – I feel meaningless without it – the stronger the character and the higher demand of will, the stronger the pathology of chatter and taunting of the night will be.

A vast majority fear their Creative Genius because when it sings in the back of their ear, if not beckoned to, it will become a shrill scream. Do I fear sickness and illness? Yes, I do. Do I fear death? On occasion; but the real fear is smothering the God within – the real fear is giving up on what drives me – the real fear is not to live up to my own ideal and great dreams – the real fear is running away from my passions despite the art of creativity evoking, at times, great pain – the real fear is not actual death but an earthly death – my real fear is giving up. The beauty of this is that it is all up to me. I’m the star visible in the densest of gray clouds. The body is self-healing and the mind is the bridge to the understanding of all things. I am peace, I am love, I am kindness, I am happiness, I am bliss: I am grief, I am anger, I am pain, I am apathy, I am jealousy – I am beyond good and evil. I is the bridge to infinite mysteriousness – the understanding of I is the bridge over death.

“Do your work and I shall know you,” said Emerson. “Do your work and you reinforce your Self…”

“People fear their higher self because when it speaks it speaks demandingly…” Nietzchean proverb

All Rights Reserved 2022 Michael Angel Loayza Jr

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