Filling the gap.

My letter from yesterday keeps haunting me. The process and post-writing emotional residue asks my attention, refusing to leave without a reflection. So be it, I give in to the urge, with pleasure.


My writing was scattered as well as my thoughts about the topic. I decided to reflect upon death, such a silly and naive idea that I can do it. Just like that, let me tell you how things are. I started writing, jumping from one thought to another, not finishing, shifting, changing. It all begun with a good and honest intention, an ambition to produce a reflection on something I find interesting. But as I progressed my unrealistic ambition to grasp the ungraspable made me anxious. This anxiety, which at the moment of excitement manifested itself through disruption in rational thinking. My attention became so scattered, running like a headless chicken over the hot stones made of words. I didn’t have conscious awareness of what was happening, I just couldn’t see that the ambition I had was completely misaligned with my abilities and knowledge. Not spending enough of time with the topic made it more complicated to find the focus and clarity of why it was interesting for me. There was, and still is, definitely something in death that attracts me, luring into the mystery of the complexity, unclarity and danger. It triggered me to write, my wild appetite was driving me but I was biting more than I could chew. So instead of a juicy meal I got a mouth full of dry words.

Please forgive me.


I was already mentioning how words can play the role of life-vests saving us from the embarrassment to admit the not-knowing. I sometimes use words to patch gaps in my knowledge and build the illusion that I know what i am talking about. In situations when I don’t have a coherent story to present, I don’t allow myself to just be satisfied with bits and pieces and recognise the incompleteness, and imperfection of my understanding. Yesterday was a great example of such situation where I tried too hard to bind words together but I was pushing in the wrong direction. I got stressed and had to find a safe zone. I hide behind words and unconsciously convince myself that I do well. In the past I would resort to this coping mechanism without hesitation. To escape the necessity to reflect and confront myself I just follow the golden rule: never look back. By all means, eliminate the possibilities to encounter my own weakness, pretend like that never happened and move on to the new thing. Since the beginning of my journal things are changing drastically. The golden rule isn’t working any more. It lost its meaning as the fear of admitting the not-knowing subsided.

By practicing honesty and tuning into collective practices I got the chance to experience how can it be different, when you don’t have to be fearful of judgement, fully accepted for what you are. No doubt, no hesitation. It feels like the whole new dimension of being is opening, which always was there but made inaccessible to me. I had to fulfil high expectations, always be on top of things, know all the answers, do well. Always, even when I thought I was being vulnerable and open, reality was veiled under the layer of conditioning. These unrealistic expectations limited my movements and abilities to grow and develop.

My ambitious appetite and expectations of others served me well through the years, I learned how to be in the world and navigate it accordingly to reach some level of success. What I missed though is the skill who to be in the world and what is my success in it. The world has its own agenda to utilise my being, different realms have different plans for me how to function. I sense a gap in competency to navigate the world that doesn’t exist yet. It feels like allowing to admit that the not-knowing is the first step towards a right direction.

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