who is

this is from mexi.co. very young and so wise. why is it even a tiny bit difficult to let go of the untrue? why does any human have the capacity to believe in things about their own self and others that break the heart of the believer? and why would spending one more hour or second immersed in the heart-pain of those false beliefs be possible? what is it that turns us clear away from the blinding sweet brightness of our own great light to peer into a dark corner? for every inner voice of adventure and openness that i don't listen to, for every call that goes ignored, that is a waste. these aren't just adventures, these are resets of the internal compass, reaffirmations of the truth of who and what i am. what is here when i put down my long-held and battered story of who i am? who is left when i realize that i am no one? there is still presence here, even when every story is silent, and that is who i want to know. every storm of emotion, every mood, passes over an unchanging ground. mustn't that ground be who i truly am? it's so foreign as to be frightening, until it's not. gratitude doesn't have to feel sweet and the road is only marked by yes and i keep going.