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the presencepulse
— a newsletter for conscious minds. Every Sunday morning, you'll get 1 guiding tip to recognize, understand, and accept the power of your presence in less than 4 minutes.
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A shy smile is lost in the wilderness of expectations.
We see it. We feel it. We synchronize to it. The raindrops soothe our rhythm and regulate our minds. In that moment, we transcend and simultaneously fade away.
Once upon a time has a powerful ring to it. We hear it and our minds slip into a trance awaiting the journey to unfold — an emotional rollercoaster we often ride.
From cheesy dramas to the most heartbreaking tragedies, and the action-pumped adrenaline chases we succumb to a rhythm that leaves us in shambles.
We witness the beauty of our souls engaged yet only if it is in secret. If we were to recognize the moves before they deliver their jab we lose interest. If we knew what would happen somehow we no longer feel it.
The mystery fades and the connection is lost. No more lonely nights that carry the weight of the drifting world beyond the gaze of a secret exposed remain to bring about the soul to bear witness to its naked truth.
As if the kiss of the dew on the morning of … (whatever of is for you) regains its feverish sway and dissolves in a lustful dream resisting to be awakened. The hero dies only if it is the first time. The maiden is saved once. And the treacherous evil is vanquished only if they were never before.
That is the story we live in.
The more the wind carries the sight into the treacherous valleys of wise imbeciles, the more the sound of the devastation wanes and surrenders. Where does that leave us?
This week I sat in many rooms boiling on feelings unrepresented. Each sat on the table, foot down, digging further into the secret alleys of the mind festering within.
Begging to cry and communicate as we did the first day we were born, each voice left behind a silence too loud not to notice. Nothing breaks free except acknowledging its presence.
Like poking an angry muscle to release its tension, the pulsations ebb and flow to regain their original position with an episode of calm followed by heightened pain. Moving from its stagnant position is a defiance of its status quo.
The contraction and the resistance are exhausting yet necessary to break free. The echoes reverberate and the resonance no matter what ends up being said will wear down the novelty and allow us to move past the first-time experience.
Echo the room and bring down the silence. In the sophistication of malice, we left behind the power of voicing the emotions that are crying for our attention.
Like a contemporary piece of music bothering our senses and disrupting our attention, melded by some classical familiarity, the dissonance fades away, and the mastery of the divergence is accepted. We share its joy and revel in its mastery.
The more experienced we are the less we can tolerate the contraction and resistance. The more our expectations are set we leave no room to feel. We need to expect it but still be surprised by it.
That’s the irony of feelings.
The rain doesn’t stop from waiting for it to be acknowledged to deliver its impact. And thus lies the conundrum of living. We resonate with consistency while seeking the divergence to share a shy smile rising on the whims of the unexpected.
May it be forgiven that we feel the need to be present to the lack of being in the absence of a story that delivers us joy and allows us to smile.
Until next time,
Carlo