Busting out of the box

It seems to be a weird condition of the human experience to be born into an environment which, from day one, does its utmost to stuff you into a box you’ll never fit in.

And it’s your life purpose, as that human, to bust out of that box. Not to find a new, better-fitting box. But to blast the box to smithereens and never look back.

And it’s hard! It’s hard to wake up every day and face a world that looks down its nose at freewheeling humans, fucking with their perfectly good boxes.

It’s hard to be in the world, but not of the world: slugging through paychecks and bills and petty drama and anything short of real, divine, authenticity.

It’s all hard while you’re emerging from your box. While you’re flexing your muscles and slowly pushing the nails out of the seams. It’s hard when you’ve got your head just above water, and your breathing long and deep for the first time since infancy, and hands are reaching out of the inhabited boxes all around you trying to shove your head back down under where it belongs.

If you’re experiencing a hard world like this, because your eyes are open, and you’re not willing to play the matrix anymore, I applaud you, my friend; my fellow rebel, my comrade in arms.

And I want you to know that it gets easier. As you continue to rise up out of the box, the world loses energy to try and keep you there. That’s the whole point of the box, see: to keep us dull and lethargic.

So, your rise can’t be stopped now. And as you emerge and spread your arms like wings and take flight into the truth of your human experience, all resistance you’ve felt will turn to love, and that love is now the wind at your back.

All my love. Welcome home, to this epic human experience.

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