oscillating

Reality’s got a bad rap. Every time we talk about facing it, it feels like confronting the greatest of beasts—except this one isn’t fought with fists. It’s a restless tide of fears and anxieties, briefly held at bay by moments of comfort, only to resurface and crash down all at once.

The pendulum swings back—just slightly—yet enough to crack the gates open. The what-ifs flood in. I look at my old patterns, and for a moment, my faith vanishes so completely that I almost wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole.

Sometimes, when I’m in a car or on the back of a motorbike, and there’s a close call—a sharp turn, a near-miss—I close my eyes. As if shutting them makes me untouchable. As if looking away bends reality in my favour.

Consciousness is a funny thing. The mind knows all the right answers, the right reassurances (that everything is going to be okay, because of course it will), yet in these moments, it’s paralyzed—allowing chaos to reign.

So here I am, facing reality. No breakthrough just yet. But as always, serendipity’s on my side, subtle and quiet, reminding me I’m on the right track. My omens await just beyond the horizon.