This week I am encountering myself. How I wish to show up fully, thoroughly, without my wardrobe of masks and with authenticity. It seems I’m so used to wearing those masks, I struggle to know who I really am. These tendencies were never materialized from a motivation of being fake, but that is the inherent result all the same. Like muscle that is atrophied, it becomes so easy to lose shape and strength. After long enough, I add the story that this is just the way it is.
Realizing these things finds me at a distinct crossroads. I can take the red pill or the blue pill. I can plod along on what seems as if it were an easy path and do the same thing; with the same results and the same output. Or I can double down and choose the more difficult, higher risk, more likely to stumble, rediscovery of what I don’t know that I don’t know path. And I can begin to live. I’m fighting for my life, not my mere survival and therefore the second path is inevitable.