Inland explores the concept of inner struggle flanked by awakening. Amongst our internal chaos lies disconnect, a dislodging from the self and therefore all other living things and creation.
It’s a paradoxical quandary, because we must go in to get out.
This insular experience mimics a prison. As humans, we have a tendency to become trapped inside our own minds. We declare war but it’s against a false enemy, because the only opponent we ever truly fight against is ourselves. The shackles can be shaken and discarded and yet we are arrested by our mind-bound burdens.
When one loses control of their inner landscape, the cognitive destruction and blurry turmoil shrink their life lenses. And of course, the lens from which one perceives life becomes one’s reality.
In the smallness of the mind’s confines, we come to feel suffocated within ourselves and yet strangely, the antidote for this type of suffering involves turning further inward. This isn’t a matter of aligning more directly with the mind but more with one’s inner sacredness. A holiness that isn’t separate from the whole, but one with it.
As Alan Watts said, the Universe seeks to express itself through you. To find peace, one must fulfil this expression and bypass their reliance on cognitive recesses, particularly when those recesses are prone to distortion.
In the smallness of the mind’s confines, we come to feel suffocated within ourselves and yet strangely, the antidote for this type of suffering involves turning further inward.
When we stop silencing the soul with noise and distraction, we allow our essence to softly step to the forefront to speak. In this act of purity and stillness, we create space for our true selves (or the Universe) to hurry in.
The beauty is, this expression cannot fail. You cannot get being yourself wrong. But you can stifle your expression by wandering so far from your truth that life succumbs to a cramped and prickly existence. Perhaps that’s the precise sign that signals us back to ourselves?
If there was ever a journey to take in this lifetime, it’s to go inland, to hold our inner selves near. It’s a paradoxical quandary, because we must go in to get out. Cross the desert to meet the sea. Survey the earth, and you’ll welcome the sky.
INLAND, a poem:
Falling from my frozen grip, stalled inside my mind. Grasping for a clearer path, perished what once did shine.
Shouting through an inner lens, my masked crusader fades. Nowhere left to run from here, the road is paved with staves.
Clutching for dear life it seems, I try to take a breath. Living from an empty space, oddly securer than the test.
Cannot hear myself, I loathe, the ropes that tie my hands. Recognising time, as it stands, is a journey to nowhere land.
Fighting against false treachery, but who has lost prized faith? Clouded days reveal their hand. “What’s left?” I ponder. Wait.
Is this struggle but a gem, disguised as dust and grime Could this trial be holding sweet, life’s gift of knowledge enshrined?
Taking steps, however small, I notice worlds do shift. An energy it seems pipes up, and there my courage sits.
Waving at my shadow's grave, I vow to take a stand. Against not the rejected parts of me, but more for a human damned.
Talking with myself one day, it all becomes so clear. Was there ever anyone that I could love so near?
Never have I sat so close to my own voice than today. Learning how to listen now, I hear myself say, “Fear not, dear one, your precious state is safe, you need not pray.”
Reaching for a higher path, I yield the warmth she breathes. Never shall I leave again, that thought I do but sheathe.
I knew what I knew, I know what I know - from here I’ll never bow. No, never shall I steer my ship so far away from thou.
I turn inland and sense the ease, it flows without constraint. This sanctity held in my bones, no one can ever taint.
Coming home, it all makes sense, the further from me I be, the more discomfort life beholds, to bring thee back to thee.
Author: Rochelle Smith
Date: 26 October 2020