The walls are doubts masquerading as facts telling us that we can’t be everything that we are.
For every doubt there is a limitation and for every limitation there is labored breath. We can’t expand. We are here to feel the pleasure and pain and our doubts contradict these instincts. Holding us in.
We look around at our walls and we resent them. We get high, we get mad, we get busy with meaningless work, we get lost in fighting win-less battles. Anything to pretend that the walls are not there. They get taller.
The walls are secrets that make us feel ugly and unworthy. Every sideways comment, every reckless assumption is a looming threat. The tall fear of being discovered, the dark coming to light. Secrets have a dormant control over us. Occupying the past. Manipulating the present.
We look around at our walls and we bless them. Restriction presented as refuge, made to look attractive. Keeping us safe from speculation and deprived of connection. Wondering why we feel isolated, we look around, only to find more walls. They multiply.
The walls are fears that look like, sound like, feel like failure. In their shadow, a scar is a crippling defect, a risk is a death sentence and a leap of faith is a sign of dysfunction. Nothing like freedom can live within these walls where imperfection is defeat and to stumble is to perish.
Tired. Disappointed. Unconvinced. We wonder if we really have to die to be free. We look around at our walls and we ponder them. The longer we stare, the more distorted they look.
Can you see the nightmares and the memories and the illusions that hold the walls together? Can you feel the tears and the heartbreak and the loss? Can you feel your stomach in your throat? Your heart beating out of your chest?
If you can stand it, if you can be brave, you can feel the earth shaking, the world as you know it falling apart. Lost and found, somewhere between darkness and light, this is about walls and tearing them down. This is about choosing to be free.