NO1
Do you have to forget in order to enter? What happens when you can remember everything, and you have to construct the idea of a reality just to feel that, in some way, you constantly share space with other people? But when I close the door, when I close it completely, an inward gaze emerges from all directions. And when I’m there, memories walk both in reserve and forward; the sun sets and rises again in the morning, the clock moves its entire structure just as it did the day before, and there’s absolutely nothing stopping us, bound to time. I look at myself in the mirror and see myself as in that first memory of mine, when I did it for the first time. I can recognize my form, I am really here, but the appearance no longer looks like that first glance. Now it’s a woman in her mid-twenties who creates that image, but the awareness observing it remains intact, and it feels eternal.
NO2
I currently live in the capital of Colorado, located in the Western region of the country, east of Kansas, and categorized as the 38th state of the United States. My friend, born in Kansas, picks me up around 5:30 in the afternoon to drive to Colorado Springs. Her parents are visiting the city, and after a year of knowing each other as students for an international yoga certification, now we are in the present, and I’m about to meet her parents, which feels like a significant gesture for our friendship. As her car sets in motion toward this Italian restaurant, the wide and open streets stretch out. I can hear us from a place that feels distant, having those conversations inside the moving car. We are making those words happen in English, but I know we are speaking from the soul.
NO3
Captured life, captured presence of my existence.
NO4
We arrive at the restaurant, and no one is waiting. So many living human beings inside such a small space: some are coming in, others are leaving, some are having conversations while eating at the same time. I’m heading to the bathroom, noticing my quick outfit choice: parachute-style Levi’s pants and a draped brown bandeau top from Zara, which I bought during one of my store orders last summer. I paired it with minimalist heeled sandals, and I threw it all together quickly, rushing after leaving my office. So now I’m looking at this version of myself through the restaurant’s bathroom mirror, and I can hear the voices of her parents looking for their daughter at one of the tables.
NO5
I wash my hands, leave the bathroom, and walk toward the table. In the English course I’m taking, the presentation videos also teach cultural examples. It’s said that in the United States, when greeting someone, you give a firm handshake. I give her father a handshake, looking him firmly in the eye, and a warm hug to her mother. Then, two languages blend within me as I introduce myself, because hugging a woman always gives me more confidence. I join the table and enter the conversation involving these three people, and occasionally the ones working at the restaurant. Again, I’m observing this movement. I asked her father how he met his wife, and I can see his eyes light up as his memory travels back to that first glance almost 60 years ago. We’re all smiling, and my heart feels grateful for the warm welcome from a traditional American family to my existence.
NO6
This restaurant has a true scene of food and history. The pasta that arrives at my table is an experience of gastronomic wisdom, and this moment is so perfect.
NO7
We prepare to leave and move to one of their homes in Colorado that Friday night. This is my third time at this property. These are forms of historical architecture, supported by strong foundations and by a spirit that takes on its own identity. I had been here last winter, and these early autumn days bring a deep sense of beauty that enters my eyes. This property and I are starting to see each other with a new familiarity, and we both enter into a bit more trust.
NO8
Every detail of this property seems to have a life of its own, like an accumulation of thoughts materializing, and my human eye gives so many different glances at each detail. This place has such vastness, enough to discover new aspects of its construction every time I come. With that open perception, I walk to the stairs and choose a different room this time. Before sleeping, I have an open conversation with my friend, and I close my eyes. With my permission, she begins to use one of her technologies for my body’s energy at that moment. It’s called the “language of health,” and it doesn’t involve any complex instruments or the smell of chemical medicine, like the nerves I feel every year when I do my annual check-ups at the hospital to monitor my health. This technology she uses is more focused on addressing the root of any external or internal issues causing a stress reaction in the functionality of my humanity, achieving synchronization and harmonization to put my body, through consciousness, in an optimal state. She closes her eyes, and I close mine; she is speaking and asking one of my hands for communication: “yes” and “no.” She asks the questions, and I surrender my body while my consciousness provides the answers. The session ends after a long period of time, she leaves my room, and I enter a deep sleep.
NO9
The room is decorated with creations made of wood of a quality that withstands different periods of time, and the colors of the sheets are warm and light. There are family photos throughout the house and the voices of artists from past eras. The windows are tall and large, and I can hear the sound of waterfalls. My friend has left the window open so I can hear the sound. A darkness has taken over the colors outside, and I’ve left only two lamps on, while the stars illuminate the entire night out there.
This house is immense, and I’m curled up in one of the rooms. I fall into this deep sleep, and my body surrenders in that instant, but everything that keeps me alive stays awake, functioning inside of me. Some memories appear like video clips, layered one on top of the other, and all those perspectives, those first impressions, remain there like an unexplored truth. They are appearing here in the lucidity of my dream because I have explored them and can see them in reverse. I can see them again for the first time and see how each one has been a conscious decision to explore. We don’t stay in places or with people without an internal purpose; we enter because there is something alive inside us, unknown, that we want to explore. And without the expectations of wanting to shape the unexplored, we can find our own constructions of those explored interpretations, and that also becomes part of the construction of our life. That is necessary, and there’s a part of the matter that builds our humanity which has this desperate need to hold on in order to feel like it exists. But when you let go, when you let go, you’re only creating space for new explorations from that part of YOU that constantly evolves, that grows, and cannot stay in places or with people who no longer grow with it.
And it hurts, it hurts in every part of existence to let go, because that also means letting go of parts of ourselves. Entering the unknown is terrifying, but it is the only proof of progress, moving toward what we call “forward,” toward the side where we seek meaning. But unlike the clock, the counting of time, calendars, the repetition of traditions, events, cultural cues, and experiences of seasons and ages, we have the power to move forward, to go against all of that, to wake up every morning and breathe from all that we truly are. I am holding hands with all of my memories up to this point, I am making spinning circles through all those times that have passed, and I am arriving and leaving, and seeking to stay, but at the same time knowing of that huge commitment to myself to find that place which I have now found, from this internal observation to the external.
N010
After the circle of people and the memories they hold, I feel a mix of energies separating from each other, leaving through the tips of my toes like a handful of dry leaves fallen from many trees in autumn, blown by the wind. I feel all these energies leaving my body, and in the middle is me, my energy, and an intense yellow light, the color of divinity, vibrating through me. When these energies try to leave my body, some get stuck in my throat, and I try to open my eyes, but I’m trapped inside my own body, unable to open them. It feels as if they are sealed shut with glue, and I am terrified. Suddenly, I can see, even with my eyes closed, and I feel the presence of two entities. There is a chilling voice speaking near me; I can even feel it moving my head to position me between the pillows. It says that someone is there wanting to talk to me, and I can sense another presence sitting under the light of one of the lamps. I say I don’t want to talk to her, and I’m trying to ask for help. Then, I can recognize these energies inside the house, and I observe them. I tell them: I am not that, I know there is darkness in me because I have come from there in search of the light, from any of the forms in which I’ve existed before, but I am here now. And I can feel the love, I can feel it, I can feel that I am that, even in all the walls built outward to protect my own energy. I can feel this divinity, this love, and in the imperfection of my constant learning, I can feel what I truly am. And as I observe these two entities in the room, I give them a soulful gaze with compassion and say: I send you light, I send you love, and I can see them dissolve into nothing. Suddenly, I feel a vibration that shakes my entire body, destroys the whole house, and rebuilds it almost instantly, and I feel the presence of God. He is here, he is there, and from all directions with me, I feel him within me, and I can see my path toward him, I can feel him. There are no rules, no forms, no expectations, only a true liberation to shape my life from all the things I truly believe in. I feel his smile, I feel an experience telling me that I don’t need to worry about anything or anyone else, only to live, to breathe, to be myself, and that is how I want to keep living.
N011
I open my eyes to the reality I am existing in, go to the bathroom, and see all the decorations of fish paintings and the large mirrors. I am integrating and remembering everything that happened while my body was asleep and couldn’t wake up. I drank a lot of water before bed, and I can see my urine coming out with blackish tones. My friend had talked about this with me during “Bodytalk,” mentioning that when doing all these alignments, I might experience such bodily expressions, and I feel as though all those energies that weren’t mine have been removed. We are exposed to so many people we don’t know, to so many things and movements, that we can end up absorbing things that aren’t ours, and it’s so important to be in this internal conversation with ourselves, to remind ourselves of who we truly are, to take care of ourselves, and to speak from that truth of ours. That is our protection: to speak from our truth.
N012
I go downstairs like a little girl in my striped pants to hug my friend and say, “Happy birthday.” All the light brightens the morning, all the trees dancing with the wind, the cold expressed by the Colorado mountains, the time marking my existence, the breath that makes me feel alive, the smiling eyes of strangers meeting mine, the music blasting while I’m the co-pilot on the road, my humanity, my precious humanity, the different tones of my laughter as I grow. Can you think about this? This is talking about you too. Can you see it now? Where are you now?
N013
We leave the property and head to a Starbucks. We go through the drive-thru, and three times I say, “It’s my friend’s birthday,” and the person handing us the coffee is on autopilot. I don’t know where their thoughts are, but they’re not in our current conversation. Suddenly, we’re laughing, we’re talking about being grateful, and this black coffee tastes so good to me. And when those days come, when those days of disturbance and darkness arrive, I will remember my path, how far I’ve come, and how far I want to go. I will bring myself back to the center of who I truly am, but if before remembering, if before remembering, I have to cry, I have to scream, I feel like giving up, I feel lost. If I feel lost, if I feel sick and tired of living, I will experience it with grace, I will do so from the observer that is an extension of my inner self. I will cross the bridge and bring myself back to the center, bring myself back home, to where I belong, and there, being there, I will send love and good energy to my existence from all directions through all times.
N014
I didn’t sleep any of those hours on Friday, September 20, 2024, while my body was apparently asleep in that bed. The following night, at midnight, I left all the lights on. I was afraid to go to sleep. I left the doors open in case I felt the need to run, but I trusted again, I fell asleep again, and this time I entered a deep sleep where the reminder that God is with me was present. There was no external energy, neither good nor bad, that could interrupt mine and my own movement. I was there, existing in mine while my humanity rested. I woke up to different repetitions of numbers, went back to sleep, and if I can remember, and if I can dream and travel back home, and if I can wake up inside and out, and if I can live from the power of remembering, then I want to embrace all of this because it means I’m living from my true, authentic self.
Written by Kafme