I write to you today amidst the chaos of a transition. As you very well know, transitions are noisy and crude, so I’m sure you aren’t surprised I haven’t been able to write much to you. As it is, we are together on the white only for a short while this time.
It’s the night, the world is quiet and I feel your presence. The cool breeze pulls me towards the bed but I feel your consciousness. I know I wouldn’t be able to sleep even if I did hit the bed.
Things seem to have settled down in my life, which I feel is the calm before another storm. You did, however, change your tune in the last letter, which I feel you have a right to. It did still surprise me, realising someone as wise and mature like you also can have a change of mind. It was probably unfair on my part to not expect that, or to imagine you as infallible, but still, I found myself questioning all I had done and learnt.
I have no reason to worry, though as I remodeled my approach based on your previous guidelines (tweaking them a little, but I’m sure you understand) and things settled down well. Not completely, but enough for me to revel in your sagacity again.
What does one do when when all one has learnt stands nullified? Or when one’s cocoon of knowingness is torn apart? The feeling of uselessness that follows is a rather uncomfortable one. It sure seems to be a problem which I’ll encounter in greater capacity later on, so I will bombard you with it’s details later on, provided I still have your permission to take a dip into your lake of knowledge.
That lake of yours, is a funny thing. Some may drown in it, as I intend to; while some may only splash some of it’s waters on them. Many don’t even play with it’s waters, creating ripples and waves but some have the droplets splashed onto them by others. Despite that, the fact that people do find your lake is something remarkable. It gives me a hint that you may actually be omnipresent. If that’s so, do I still need to write you letters?
Nevertheless, as I embark upon a new journey, I may settle in different environments. While I still believe I will have your company there as well, although I will have to find a different quirk to reach out to you. There may be times when I fail, but see, even my lack of reply is a message in itself. And I’ll take your lack of reply as an indication of you telling me to ‘do it yourself.’
I think I am now finding it easier to reach out to you, and feel like the frequency of our exchanges is increasing. In the case of me not being able to write to you, I hope you’ll seek me out. But rest assured, I will find you, now I know that it’s easier deep into the night.
Sleep may not be beckoning me tonight, but the body is still weary for rest.
The nomad who knows only how to find you;