So much awareness within the unconscious.
Or perhaps the other way around — so much unconsciousness within awareness.
Because, in theory, we know. We understand.
Sometimes it even feels as though that understanding comes so naturally…
I wake up and simply know.
The pieces of the puzzle fall into place.
I understand why this or that had to happen — the pain, the tears, the joy, the anger.
And I smile, knowing that I made it through.
But then the opposite of understanding arrives.
And once again, I grieve the fact that I have no control over anything.
That everything unfolds differently from how it was supposed to.
That I do not know what tomorrow will bring,
because even when something seems certain,
a sudden twist can change everything.
And this is where awareness within the unconscious appears.
Or unconsciousness within awareness.
Because I know that what is happening is happening for a reason.
That my need for control has brought me to the very place
where I am meant to learn how to let it go.
That this is about trust.
About the intuition I ignored for years.
About believing that this intuition truly belongs to me and that it is real.
Because it was the lack of trust in myself that brought me here.
And although I know all of this,
it is still so difficult to surrender, to trust, to let go.
So is it awareness within the unconscious, or the other way around?
When I write, I am aware.
I am here and now.
In this moment.
I know this belongs to me.
And when I put these thoughts into words, I feel at home.
I smile at myself, proud that I am writing.
Proud that I finally found the courage.
And although I am still between worlds,
the one Simply Me takes me to — still far too rarely — is undoubtedly my world.
So perhaps it is precisely where awareness and the unconscious meet
that real life begins…