I live in constant confusion. Incredulous at everything because anything is possible. I can’t trust my senses because though things may be as they appear, there is nothing behind them. Living on the surface with superficial tendencies has manifested into spiritual delusion. I walk around harboring truths from myself because this mental institution in my mind promotes complacency and safety leaving my soul in danger. The faint beating of a drum, my heart, creates the music I need to move towards that which I seek. When the sound permeates my very core I feel closer than ever before. But when it stops, I’m defeated and self-destruction takes its course. Yet all of this is all my mind; the looney house that I call mine. Established and molded by perceptions that may or may not be my own. Realizing that I am my own experiment and in me is what I call home. Making something of nothing or nothing of everything. This deep-rooted societal belief that we don’t matter versus the belief that everything is one. Where on the spectrum do I lie? The act of living through spiritual digressions and physically terminal progressions is akin to the belief of existing on a higher plane. It is all a superstition. Choices driven by what some call faith in magic and others call chance. Putting significant labels on things that are no different just to allow them to appear dissimilar. A manipulation of something that is by nature a manipulation of everything. It all comes full circle and back to the insanity of what is or is not. And I ask myself, what is meditation going to do besides provide a sense of freedom from my physical awareness? Perhaps bring me nearer to the beat of my heart which may guide me a step closer to a place on the continuum where balance and fulfillment triumph over security and contentment? Even so, this would still be only a perception of my mind’s fabricated reality which is seemingly unyielding to the screams of my ravaged spirit. Not even certain of my uncertainty as I may or may not have in me the very key.