Burn in Awareness Until Only Truth Remains
I Used to Believe My Thoughts Were Me
For years, I lived inside my own noise.
The stories.
The judgments.
The endless commentary looping through my mind.
Not out loud. Not on display.
Just a quiet storm of shoulds, fears, comparisons, and self-edits.
I didn’t need to pretend for others.
I was already pretending to myself.
Convincing myself I was clear when I was confused.
At peace when I was anxious.
Awake when I was just… aware of the idea of awakening.
It’s subtle. That inner deception.
And it’s the most stubborn illusion of all.
I Sat Still — and Everything I Was Not Started Screaming
It didn’t happen in a temple or under a Bodhi tree.
It happened on the floor of my tiny apartment. No incense. No sacred music. Just me, alone, in silence.
I had hit a wall — career looking good on paper, soul screaming off-stage.
So I sat.
No books.
No breathwork.
Just raw presence.
The first ten minutes? Agony.
The mind fights. The ego panics. Old identities rush in like anxious lawyers trying to defend a crumbling case.
But when you stay — really stay — something shifts.
You don’t break.
You melt.
And what melts away is everything that isn’t real.
It’s Not Enlightenment. It’s Excavation.
People think awakening is a light switch.
It’s not.
It’s a slow burning.
Burn in awareness long enough, and all the masks start falling off.
The people-pleaser. The overachiever. The spiritual performer. The strong one. The “I’ve got it all figured out” version of you.
Gone.
One layer at a time, you meet the raw, trembling truth beneath it all.
And it’s not some perfect, peaceful Buddha sitting inside.
It’s usually a very honest mess.
But that mess?
That’s sacred.
Because it’s real.
And real is where freedom begins.
The Pain Isn’t the Problem — The Pretense Is
Awareness doesn’t numb you.
It exposes you.
You start feeling things you buried years ago.
Old grief.
Quiet rage.
Desires you denied to stay “safe” or “successful.”
And this is where most people run.
They call it shadow work. Ego death. Purging.
But to me, it’s just truth having its turn.
No guru can do this for you.
No meditation app.
No journal prompt.
Only you, sitting inside your own fire, saying:
I’m not moving until the lie moves first.
The Truth Doesn’t Arrive. It’s What’s Left Over.
Once the stories burn out,
what’s left is shockingly simple.
Stillness.
Clarity.
A quiet knowing that doesn’t need to shout.
You don’t become someone new.
You remember who you were before the noise.
Before the roles.
Before the world taught you how to lie to yourself.
And from that place?
You create differently.
You lead differently.
You love differently.
You become a lighthouse — not because you try, but because nothing false is dimming your light anymore.
Maybe you’re tired.
Maybe you’re on the edge of something, but you’re scared to let the old fall away.
Let it.
You don’t need to have a 5-year plan for your soul.
You just need one moment of truth —
and the courage to sit in it.
Not to fix.
Not to figure it all out.
Just to burn.
To feel.
To stay.
Until the noise dissolves.
Until the truth becomes louder than your fear.
And when it does, you’ll know.
You don’t need to search anymore.
You just need to stop running.
What are you still pretending not to know?
Sit with that.
Not to fix it. Not to name it.
Just to see.
Let it breathe.
Let it ache a little.
Let it whisper what it’s been holding all this time.
Because awareness isn’t the fire.
It’s the space that allows the fire.
And the more you see clearly, the less there is to burn.
No agenda. No spiritual performance.
Just presence — raw, honest, awake.
Stay here a while.
In the noticing.
In the silence after the noise.
And if anything moves,
let it.
Not because you’re chasing truth —
but because you’re finally still enough to recognize it.
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