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Our mind, our spirit, our consciousness, our soul-
everything about us that is the most important thing about us,
that is not of the body,
that is the most phenomenal thing about every human being,
that is deeper than any ocean anywhere on any planet,
and is the adhesive that holds together the whole.

Our essence extends beyond us.
Our mind never stops working.
While our body is resting, regenerating,
after being used to excess,
our mind interprets the messages that we have received,
but not clearly perceived, from the world around us-
a process that we can sometimes witness the progress of
while we are dreaming.

When a baby is born,
when a child first cries-out
and first extends the reach of their life-force and touches the heart
and connects with the consciousness of their parents,
the moment is so magnificent, overwhelming, and enticing-
it is as magnetic as the Earth’s core,
and as beautiful as the song of Angels.

When a body breathes its last breath,
and enacts its last deed;
when a body reaches its last instant of usefulness before death,
and you feel the sensation of being new-born again and free-
at that moment you need nothing,
at that moment you hear nothing,
at that moment your entire life unfolds before you
and reveals the meaning of your life
and why you were so integral in keeping the universe expanding,
keeping the galaxy spinning, and keeping the world as diverse,
engaging, and wonderfully-unpredictable,
as it has always been since its beginning.

People never truly die.
When we die, I believe that all that we are, all that we ever were,
and all that we forever will be, goes on-
and as we shed our mortal shackles,
as we take our final look at a sunrise or a sunset,
we understand what it all means:
why people in our life mean so much to us,
and why acceptance and realization is life’s key-
that is when all existence comes into focus,
and we understand that we are celestial beings in our natural form
of many states of reality that are not of the body.

I feel like I have returned from death, returned to life,
I feel like I have been resurrected.
For over a week, I lay helpless in my bed,
as my thoughts and dreams went into overdrive
and manifested into different and varied guises,
colours, textures, and ideas- some that I do not remember entirely,
some that I choose not to recognize.

At some point in our lives,
we all have this urge that appears before our eyes
that tells us to look within and begin a journey to find ourselves;
there are so many schools of thought on the subject
of how to embark on the ultimate journey of identity:
a walk in the woods, a prolonged period of silence
and deep-thought around a fire,
reading a thought-provoking book-
all methods that I would recommend, which have served me in the past.
Being ill, however;
having your body and mind feel like they are turning against you,
feeling like you are locked in a prison cell
with your worst enemy: incapacity.

This new year has not began as I had hoped.
Unfortunately, the normal feeling of euphoria of Christmas
did not carry me over the cusp of New Years Day
with the normal feeling of joy and the smile of happiness on my face.
I felt like I had been struck by lightning
and had fallen from the tallest building in the world
to the hard and unforgiving ground below,
and it all happened so fast,
and I didn’t know exactly what had happened, I didn’t feel a thing.
I was broken. I just wanted to feel better,
and for all that I was feeling and experiencing to come to an end.

No one is a statue. No one is bullet-proof, untouchable,
unfliching of the debris of life,
and everyone is stricken from time-to-time by something
that feels foreign and alien of themselves,
that is not easy to purify ourselves of;
we all must accept that life itself,
and our interactions with what life has in store for us,
is nearly always going to be out of our control.

For the last seven days, I feel like I have been in space-
circling the world, instead of being a part of it;
coccooned in a bubble; fighting to find my way back
to feel well again- almost forgetting what normal
everyday things are that we take for granted:
the taste of food, the feeling of sunlight on my skin,
forgetting me.
Coming back to Earth now, finding my feel on solid ground
after so long of feeling weightless,
I am still regaining my balance,
I am still finding parts of my life to reconnect.

How I am feeling now is better than I was,
and I hope I continue to feel that way.
What I am feeling now makes me think of the memories
and recollections of the astronauts who went into space
and their perspectives of seeing the Earth from so far away,
and how seeing it changed them:
a way of seeing the world, which I see and understand now,
that has been called the “Overview Effect”.

Sitting, looking, taking in the view
of the young and the old, the timeless and the new-
I look up and out to a bustling city
constantly changing and revitalizing itself every minute,
as I sit alone staring at faces, windows, beauty, art, life,
from my spot at Millennium Place,
as sunlight bursts through the clouds and blesses where I am
so that everything is beautifully lit.

The city in which I am sitting was once described as a “ghost town”,
however I think that perception hasn’t been ascribed for a long time-
this city has a history, it is has a story;
this city reminds me of myself, and the people of this city
are like the infinite sides and colours of me;
I think that this city and I are by no means in decline-
I believe that we are in our prime.

Sitting on the circumference of this circular centre of congregation,
with a museum dedicated to the best inventions
of some of mankind’s best mechanical minds behind me,
I think about what the world has gone through, what I have been though,
the things that still stand on land,
and everything that lies, lives, and endures everyday in the sea.
There are creatures who live their entire lives in the dark,
deep, wonderland, water-expanses of the ocean floor-
completely oblivious to sunlight-
who have the ability to actively emit, change, and show their own colours,
whose bodies are as translucent as glass-
they shine in their own way,
some still to be seen by human eyes for the first time,
playing out a mystery unbeknownst to them, blissfully un-harassed.

As I grow older in heart, mind, and body,
I go to places, and I step inside the footprints of other people
who I imagine once followed the path that I am now on,
and my mind no longer feels foggy.
When you are a child you play in the fog-
the fact that you don’t know everything
doesn’t even become a fully-formed thought in your mind;
but you do want to do everything, you want to see everything,
and you have no idea that you should remember for later
the things that you leave behind.

I am enthralled by the future;
I adore every day, for many different reasons,
and as I get older I try to chronicle as best that I can
the days that have gone by-
because I have lost so much, and will continue to lose so much,
and because I have slowly began to give up the obsession of my youth
by stop asking the question: why?

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