“When we get out of the glass bottles of our ego, and when we escape like squirrels turning in the cages of our personality and get into the forests again, we shall shiver with cold and fright but things will happen to us so that we don’t know ourselves.
Cool, unlying life will rush in, and passion will make our bodies taut with power, we shall stamp our feet with new power and old things will fall down, we shall laugh, and institutions will curl up like burnt paper.”
― D.H. Lawrence
I don’t know why, but this reminds me of the way I have felt for the last eighteen months, waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting to escape the glass bottle of my ego, the wire fences of my relationships that keep me spinning in the same circles. There are places in this world where I am not known, where I don’t know myself. Because we do take our cues from our surroundings, our fellow actors, the lighting, the circumstances, the part for which we auditioned (so intentionally or accidentally) and got. The forest is vast and foreign and filled with noises. I am about to be a Stranger in a Strange Land and I shall laugh and the old things will fall down and the stalwart scaffolding of who I am will scatter like burnt curls of paper.