I wish I could say what I am really thinking

I have too much to write about.  I sometimes lament that so many of my thoughts are getting lost when I don't have time to write them down.  My act of writing not only documents my moments of inspiration and insight, but it very much gives life to the thoughts themselves--the writing adds yet another creative layer of processing, and the act of trying to synthesize and articulate my thoughts often leads to further insights and inspirations--quite often the BEST ones. This makes me aware that I am potentially "losing things" when I don't have time to devote to writing--especially when there's lots of material percolating inside my head. 

What I only very recently have come to realize, however, is that I am not necessarily losing things permanently.  Rather, the thoughts re-enter the stream which makes up my life and, if called for, will resurface again later...somewhere further downstream. They aren't "lost forever" just momentarily recycled. This awareness is helping to lessen some of my anxiety as I learn to place more faith in trusting in the process--believing that all the important things will happen eventually, if they are meant to happen.

As I sit here now and feel moved to write, I am overcome with emotion because there is indeed far too much to write about.  To write it all down would take an entire lifetime, and perhaps that would still only be a drop in the bucket. 


Over the last several weeks I've been feeling like I'm stretching the limits of my life in a way that makes it seem like I am having difficulty containing myself in "real time."  It makes me conscious that there is an expansive quality to my self and my life experiences that makes it feel like I need to open up the canopy of time so that my soul can stretch out into its fully inflated form.  My soul wants room and space to stretch and breathe freely.  Real time is cramping it. Actually, more than just cramping it, there is a sense that there is still so much out there to be experienced and known, if only I could transcend the limits of concrete time.  I keep having profound moments in which I touch upon the edge of some spiritual truth and I'm awe-struck by the simultaneous simplicity and sheer awesomeness of that experience/truth.  It's fair to say that I'm frustrated by the limits of language in being able to convey such a profound, yet equally simple experience in a way that truly gives it justice. 

I don't mean for it to sound like I'm walking around with a suffocating soul--as that's not it at all.  I feel very much full of life.  Rather, it's the awareness that even as full as my life is these days, I've encountered the edge of something that suggests there is the potential for so much more--if only I can figure out a way to break into it. 

As I explore the edge of this mystery, I'm conscious of contemplative spirituality and the various traditions that focus on rituals of silence while engaging in prayer and communion with God.  For, often silence alone is the only way to communicate that which cannot be expressed within the limits of human language. Why should one's experience--of any kind--be limited by language?  Some things are so profound that they will never be able to be fully expressed through language alone.  Thankfully there are other modes of expression.  And sometimes silence is the only space that will allow for such expression.