There is something of what I am that is incredibly vulnerable. It seems to underly all that I have created myself to be and looms forward at moments of increased lucidity, if I am able to cope with the sense of groundlessness that it brings. The frozen perspectives of self and world that have become isolated from the fluidity of life seem to have been maintained in order to establish mental certainty in an often-confusing world. In these moments of awareness I see the illussion that these fixations assume of my self. Efforts I make to express a truth of what lay beneath this are inadequate. In that place of being vulnerable there is nothing that I can assume to know since knowing provides insulation and separation from that deeper experience. All known truth seems to be relative in terms of using that process of language to capture any substance. I can however be aware of what my experience is outside of knowing, however insufficient my words are in attempts to express that. My experience is the most authentic way of realization.
I am helpless in my vulnerability and it seems that it is something of my authentic experience that I hope to come to live with as opposed to becoming and dwellng in something of an illussion for the sake of providing a superficial sense of security.