You Don't Actually Matter

I am exhausted, I am excited, I am depressed, I am thirty-nine, I am overweight, I am a laundry list of feelings, opinions, ideals, and wounds. All day, every day, I claim to be what I am not, in my own internal soundtrack and in my narration of myself to others. With every conversation I participate in, the dialogue is littered with untrue, “I am,” statements. The majority of what I am claiming, complaining about, and creating in my mind, is of untruths that I believe are truths. 

Samyoga is the misidentification of the seer with the seen; it’s when we believe we are the depression or the guilt or the hollowness; it’s when we believe that what is impermanent and simply passing through, is who we actually are. Which then begs the question, “who am I?” Do you know who you are without your political stance, your mask wearing opinion, your job title, your religious affiliation, your sexual orientation, your economic status, your education, or your stance on abortion? Do you know who you are when it’s all stripped away and you are standing naked with no words, no agenda, no job to go to or children to care for, no one to impress or prove anything to?

Honestly, I don’t. I have glimpses, small moments in time when my insperience and experience are merged, the narration ceases, and I simply am. I am. That is the complete sentence. In that moment, “I am,” is more than enough because I am not evaluating myself and my proficiency at life. I am not awarding myself a blue ribbon or condemning myself to my own mind prison to be punished by the iron fist of the Nazi Warden who is the sum of all of the lies that I have been sold to falsely and temporarily make me feel like I am important, like I matter.

What if mattering didn’t matter? What if my opinion about mattering was the very thing that was negating the only matter that actually matters, which is the matter of NOW. It is only here, in this now, that I have access to the portal of timeless time, the vortex of is-ness, and the pure freedom that lies in the mergence of being and doing. When making myself matter becomes the construct of which the matter of my life is built, I am sure to get buried underneath the endless bricks of matterless matter, of which there will never, ever be a shortage of: bricks of what he thinks about me and what she wore to the Christmas party, bricks of who is sleeping with who, and bricks of some stupid social media post. Piles and piles of bullshit bricks that will never amount to more than a fickle facade. 

So let us make what matters, matter. The matter of the unchanging getting to experience the changing, our light getting to experience itself through an infinite number of possibilities without trying to change, maintain, or fix a damn thing. So who am I? I am the am-ness, the matterless, matter that doesn’t give a shit about mattering because it is too busy being itself, which is of course, what manifests all the matter that I originally thought mattered. So here’s to NOT MATTERING. 

Dearest of dear souls,

My genuine appreciation to you. I will never stop telling you how touched I am that you are reading these words right now. The infinite content available to us is overwhelming. How utterly divine that somehow, someway we connected. I do not take it lightly that you are choosing to consider my thoughts, perceptions, and contemplations worthy of your time. May your mind and heart be open to the excitement of not knowing,. May you always be willing and open to expanding your perspective in efforts to love even bigger and bolder than you can possibly imagine.

Blessings and Namaste,

Andrea Dawn