God has granted me the chance to be reborn – again.
This wasn’t the first time.
The miracle is still flowing through my cells. Minute by minute I can acknowledge the strength.
When you feel life is coming back to you and you have this sense of strange feeling of guilt that you haven’t earned it. And you feel it is kind of right.
I can type again. Probably, I can write again.
I could cook yesterday.
I could carry the bags from shop the day before yesterday.
I was able to breath a few days ago.
It is still strange, an unusual mystery, how easily it can be forgotten and looked obvious that even lifting an arm was a distant desire not known for sure ever to be fulfilled – and now it is normal.
How things can loose their meaningfulness so easily in our life?
Like they had no value at all for us.
Vanity is an ever-existing condition it seems.
Indeed, as there is progress, we deem to forget priorities which were reset in a way we felt were the truth.
Now, a race started again: which minuscules could tramp over and misguide my presence, derail my consciousness to plastic reality?
Can I be the king of the fake world? Can I be in that competition, with even greater strength? It feels like that, every single moment which I spend with muting my inner voice and reasoning myself: surfing, watching, listening, not-praying and self-treating are worthier ways.
I know, God hasn’t saved me for this. It looks, a rebirth doesn’t make me different from what I used to be, not in an instant, not without growth.
Though, healing is also a process.
Maybe I also should be more accepting with myself. I should let myself to heal inside, heal from the world, from the life I’ve lived.
(from my new book: God is Still Within)