Terra Incognita

© TERRA INCOGNITA by DELAFOI

I'm an explorer lost in the maps of my own making. Fear does that to you. It keeps you safe as a parasite controls its host.

My fears have created a territory of comfort, a known universe built on a repeated ambition, reoccurring failures, and an echo of words and phrases to validate its construction. A safe zone invisible to the naked eye, where everything goes on repeat to keep the parasite happy.

I have allowed myself to be schooled into walking the same path over and over again. Every time I rise, I also fall, and every time I fall, I reach for the same steps, the same tipping point, convincing myself it is part of an inner system. I know I'm going to hurt, but at least I'm not going to be surprised.

It's a convenient way to act rebellious, having your creative freedom packed in a box-set of rules. Dive right into the mythological loop of the self-destructive genius, and if no one else believes you're the real deal, at least you'll convince yourself you're one of the chosen ones.

But, it's sacrilegious, wasting time given to me like this.

The truth is, I don't believe in the myth of making your own fortune. I still want it, of course. I've spent a lifetime on the wrong side of the screen watching fame and fortune as the switchboard operator granted my every wish. And I still hear fear screaming out that it's normal, that we all feel the same way. All I need to do is hold my breath, keep on, and stay safe. But, it's mechanical rather than emotional.

Deep down, I know it's greed. It's narcissistic.

Those shiny things we feel the need to surround ourselves with, the endless search for approval, a pat on the back, applauds or standing ovations, are all false. They are devilish calls and are only there to boost our ego. Nothing else.

“It’s sacrilegious, wasting time given to me like this.”

The map remains, and all the things I thought I longed for are now bricks piled up in the corners as a sanction to its structure. I have tried to be like you. Chasing the things you chase, liking the things you like, be happy as you, smile like you, and talk like you.

It makes me everything but free. It makes me numb as a caged elephant.

My true prophet lies within, in the words of my inner voice, and life comes to he who dares to listen. Because I'm not a part of this, I never have been, and I never will. Everything you're trying to sell me is wrong, and my instinct tells me that real fortune lives in the challenge of one short leap.

Leave.

Leave everything I have ever gathered, everything I thought I wanted, and everything I never needed. A few steps over some piles of bricks, with no baggage, no rules, and no fear. The map says it's undoable, but the voice keeps telling me it's easy.

And the prophet sings that I have to die to be reborn, to save the art, not the artist.

From time to time, my mind goes to a place of nothingness. Sometimes it's a great white desert with a faded horizon, others, a vast empty parking lot with no end. The sun is usually high and bright, and I stand in the middle of the frame, leaving no shadow. Everything is silent, just the sound of a light breeze. There's no path behind me and no signs ahead.

From there, I can give you my thoughts, my love, my dreams, and my soul. I can give you my vision, my heartache, my work, and my all. I can undress. Rip my skin off. And I can sing. For love, for life, for you. From there, I have nothing, but I can give you everything.

It's a blissful thought. Sparkling.

No map, no rules.
No history, no future.

Terra Incognita.