The Journey of Forgettxng

You are something the whole universe is doing

I assume maybe you are not serious, but sincere that you are ready to wake up. So then, when you’re in the way of waking up and finding out who you really are, what you do is what the whole universe is doing at the place you call here and now. You are something the whole universe is doing in the same way that a wave is something that the whole ocean is doing.

- Allan Watts

Each time I meet a seemingly empty page, I wonder about the words that waited to be born here—the unspoken truths that lingered at the tips of my fingers, begging for release. And then I ask: what did those letters, sewn together to carry meaning, feel as I strung them into being, granting them liberation? What degree of punishment is merited for leaving so many of them unspoken, unwritten? Surely, the characters who have lived, loved, and lost inside my soul would carry a rage toward me. Isn’t that why my body aches? Why my throat constricts? Why sleep evades me—as they haunt me?

I wonder what would happen if I left that fountain on—if I never stopped letting them flood the world, not just my world. Will you come on this journey with me? Will you flood the world too? Will you write, sing, create, laugh, dance alongside me?

The first creation was the pen. It wrote everything—even this blip in an ever-expanding universe (an ever-expanding us, a discussion for another time, my doves). And now, you find yourself here, reflecting on both the sanctity and the ludicracy of the written word. The pen—wielded by God, the everlasting source whose dominion reigns across the universe—is now in my hand. In my little world, this empty space becomes my dominion.

Creating worlds from tongue and the ink of passion—what we make here lives. It leads a life, and it longs to be seen. It makes us gods—not in the kingly, godly sense, perched on some throne or as near as my jugular vein—but in the sense that the free will to question, to dream, to remake, is divine. In the sense that to

to fall
and rise
and fall
and fall
and rise
like the breath of life— is an act of holy rebellion.

It demands our dominion.

A deep, inexplicable need to offer the world a glimmer of soul that exists outside the confinement of our bodies—beyond even this fourth-dimensional, physical realm.

You’ve come this far, which means the stories haunt you too. Do you also feel that there’s no way you could’ve lost them? The stories, I mean. They must’ve been with us this whole time. So...

How did we forget?

How could this space have dared to be empty?

So again, I ask, will you come on this journey with me?

xoxo

Until your shadow meets mine again—

Simxn
Author, Crown of Thorns: Desert Rose • Editor, The Alchemxst