I remember you asked what I was waiting for.
A little piece of light.
I’m afraid, sometimes, of meditation. I do it more often now, and most times the thoughts are fine, but sometimes my thoughts go to dark places. I think about how I’ve adapted, how I evolved, and I wonder if I’ve noticed. I try to notice now. I’ve become more intentional. I don’t like it all. I loved the me I was long ago more than I love the me I am now, but I love them both a great deal. I try not to think about that boy and that man.
In Mexico, in a cave, are fish known as Astyanax Mexicanus. They weren’t always blind. They weren’t always void of pigment or insomniacs. Darkness did that. I wonder if in their mind, does the “I once was…” or “we once were…” thought exist. Not because they feel weak in their current space, of course, because they shine there, but because these thoughts, at least for me, are natural.
I try not to think about that boy and that man, but meditation forces it. Perhaps it’s not too awful because of the growth. Imagine what would happen if one day someone walked by that fish cave and let the light in. I suppose I’m waiting for someone to let the light in.