Escape

When you hear that word does it have negative or positive connotations? Escape can mean so many things. I’ve been listening to a lot of Joe Dispenza lately, as I’m riding the trail, trying to absorb the idea that our thoughts create our reality. Did you know that 90% of thoughts we have in any given day are mundane, routine. Without new stimuli, doing things outside of our comfort zone, we are trapped in the limited, ordinary, safe reality we create; cause that’s where we’re comfortable. Can comfort and growth coexist? I really wish the answer was yes.

I was NOT comfortable Friday evening, when I picked my friend J up to go to a mutual friend’s wedding. The house reeked of weed and her abusive boyfriend was there. She was clearly distressed but I chalked it up to his presence and recently getting out of the hospital for yet another “accident” that had befallen her. Isn’t it funny how intimate violence victims “trip” so much? They are just so clumsy. <Insert eternal eye roll>. She made a scene at the wedding and I basically had to drag her out. In the car she broke down sobbing but was unwilling to hear that her main problem is the filthy, depraved, Machiavellian scrote she just allowed to move in.

At the wedding, and really everywhere in my life, I’m surrounded by people who are constantly escaping themselves. Any time you drink, or smoke, or do hard drugs. Every time we binge watch shows or mindlessly scroll. Mindless is the opposite of mindful; aware, in your present moment. My ex tried to tell me that meditating was like drinking as it was an escape from reality. But I challenge that because I think the state we get to while meditating (properly, which isn’t effortless) IS our actual, spiritual reality. The plane we’re meant to access. Where we can construct and direct our energy/focus on what we want to bring into our (physical) lives. And also where we can determine the things that are no longer serving us; what to let go.

I’m guilty too. Watched brilliant show Adult Material for 4 hours on a sunny Sunday. I smoke weed. I avoid being mindful more; like I’m frightened of it. Scared of truly delving in and believing I control my own life. As opposed to the view that, “there’s no point to any of this. It’s all just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes”. I’m grateful that I at least know and understand what I need to escape, which is my own self limiting habits and beliefs. I’m worried for the people, the strong, intelligent, capable women I know, who seem to have no idea they’re sharing beds with wolves, even as they bandage their most recent attack wounds.

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