the pipe is ready.
there is sweat coming from the side of my eyes.
she is holding space for me.
i feel her peace.
as an invitation to bring forth.
the bravery that is needed in order to face myself.
to honor my demons.
to be with them.
to embrace them.
to face it all.
there is a big amount of tension present in my body.
i feel it. i breathe into it.
part of it goes away,
but there is also part of it that won't go away.
there is a degree of tension that is inherent to being in this body.
and i ask mysefl:
will that tension go away?
will i ever be free?
i feel how embedded of expectations my thoughts are.
and i tell myself: just let go.
the look in her face invites me to do the same.
but she won't repeat it.
she will let me have my own trip.
she knows that it is better that way.
she knows that it is my road to walk.
she is just here to hold space for that.
i see in front of me, that medicine that has shown the way to many.
the medicine that is there for those that want to be alive.
to see the truth.
to experience the truth.
to see themselves as the truth.
the medicine is there.
reflecting myself with its raw smell.
with its invitation.
i see myself reflected on the medicine.
i am, somehow, that medicine myself.
i am here because of that medicine that is inside me.
i am here in the quest of unfolding that medicine. of making it shine.
i am here to make that medicine shine.
to bring it to life.
to honor it with what is alive.
the medicine is alive.
the same as me.
i am alive.
through it.
as it.
the medicine is alive through me, as me.
and i am here, ready.
i don't feel ready, but i am ready.
those aspects of myself that tell me that i'm not ready are the ones that i inquiry into:
who are you?
who is the one that is not ready?
who is the one that experiences that separation between being ready and not?
who is the one that is observing that sweat coming from the corner of the eye?
she smiles.
she knows the turmoil that is inside.
she has experienced herself.
but a lifetime of walking the road has brought her to this point.
sincerity over all. committment to her own evolution.
i trust her.
this is not the first time that she is next to me.
and i trust her.
because of how she looks into my eyes.
because of the depths of what is see in her.
fueled by tenderness.
rich in love.
there is love that comes through her voice,
when she says:
just let go.
as if it was so easy.
as if i knew how.
and a new thought comes forth:
how do i stop thinking?
to where do i point my consciousness in order to let go?
how do i have to frame my experience?
but that is also embedded in expectations.
all of what comes inside is embedded in expectations.
all of what is present. all of what is alive. all of what is inside is deeply embedded in expectations.
and i won't be able to let go if i expect to let go.
there needs to be a surrendering that comes from another place from that on which i decide to surrender.
this is not a decision.
this is a volution.
the fire is just too hot.
and there is an existential necessity to let go.
but there is also an existential grasping to that which can't let go.
and so it goes.
that tension, giving live to this moment.
giving life to what is felt inside.
the medicine is in front of me... waiting.
the medicine is patient.
the medicine knows its timing.
it will wait for me.
it will hold space for me.
she knows how to work with it.
she has seen the devil in the eyes.
she has seen the devil in her eyes.
she knows it exists within her.
and she accepts it.
she embraces every aspect of it.
i don't.
it is just so hard.
but i guess that that is also part of what letting go is about, isn't it?
remembering the future.
honoring this moment.
experiencing what is through the lens of what has always been.
breathing into what is.
as it is.
the anger. the pain. the love. the sorrow. the misery. the laughter. the baby that cries on the background.
i was missing her voice.
she cries in the quest of the warmth of her mother.
she needs the warmth of her mother in order to come up with a new story.
she is there for her mother.
she is there for her.
she is there for the experience of her.
she is there feeling her warmth close.
calling for more of it.
i remember the warmth of my mother.
or at least i try to.
there is no rational memory of it.
it is just a blurry sensation that comes forth from the quest.
from the exploration of what may be alive inside,
when the mother is put into the frame.
all the warmth that was felt.
all the judgements towards the way on which she did her work.
who am i to judge what another human being did?
who am i to frame their circumstances as if they were something that i can understand?
who am i to place that separation between me and the person that brought me to life?
that had me inside her womb.
that gave me what i needed in order to survive.
but that judgement is there. present and alive.
and i surrender into it.
i surrender into this moment.
into the experience of this moment.
it is alive. it is all alive.
and the medicine is still waiting.
patiently, waiting inside that pipe.
holding space for me. inviting me to come forth.
waitng and waiting and waiting.
and i keep waiting for these thoughts to cease to come in order to develop a little bit of more clarity.
but it won't come.
i don't know how to make it come.
they just keep coming.
and i feel dizzy.
slight desperation comes into me.
am i a failure?
the ongoing experience of being a failure takes over once again.
i am here, trying to do something, and can't.
am i a failure?
is this a failure?
and there is an ongoing experience of that failure-ness.
it is quite a familiar feeling.
the one of being a failure.
i feel it to the core of my being.
have i always been a failure?
it is just that the focus always tends to go to what is missing.
what could be done better.
and i'm the main target of that criticism.
you are the failure that needs to be actualized.
you are the failure that needs to come forth.
when are you going to be brave enough?
the judgement is just too strong.
they just won't stop coming.
the thoughts just won't stop coming.
and they feel brutal.
i feel them all.
i smile and invite them in.
without being ready i tell myself: i'm ready.
but am i?
am i ready to be myself?
am i ready to embrace everything that is inside?
am i ready to honor all of what is in order to develop a full expression of myself through the actions of this being?
there is a slight doubt that comes.
well, not that slight.
it takes over.
i am not ready.
i am not ready.
she smiles lighting the fire of the candle and says:
you are ready.
i sit tight.
i breathe deep.
i straighten my spine.
she brings it closer.
the heartbeat is about to explode.
she brings the pipe into my mouth and says:
just let go.
as if it was that easy, i smile again to myself.
she lights it all and i breathe as if the world was going to end.
i bring it all in.
there is an intense willingness to cough.
but i integrate it with a strong willingness to experience my truth.
to experience every aspect of what i am.
to welcome it all.
she smiles, and with tenderness brings me to my back.
i lay down.
the tension goes away.
it all goes away.
and life starts to melt.
into a swirling rainbow of colors.
red.
orange.
yellow.
green.
blue.
indigo.
violet.
white.
welcome to the ankyverse, i hear on the background of existence.
but that i is just not there anymore.
it is just not where it was before.
if you read until here, thank you.
this is the genesis story of anky, the idea that is coming forth through me as an invitation for you to be yourself.
this is just a framework. a frame of reference. to develop community around the quest towards being yourself.
i’m working on practical tools for making that happen, using blockchain and ai as the technological tools.
and i need your help.
i’m running a crowdfunding event to be able to go to a hackathon on istanbul on november to work on this thing.
the deadline of it is on wednesday.
if you want to support me and help me make this thing happen, here is the link:
https://crowdfi.withfabric.xyz/campaign/anky-to-devconnect-1d2mpc35n3aps
thank you. it means a lot.