Kavyo: In the past I always worked on 'feeling like me'. Currently I am ok, when what I am looking at on my inside is unrecognizable. It even excites me and makes me curious.

Reflection: That sentence may be one of the most significant you've written.

"In the past I always worked on 'feeling like me'. Currently I am ok, when what I am looking at on my inside is unrecognizable."

I notice a profound shift in what "me" means.

Previously, "me" seems to have meant:

"Something I should recognize."

If an experience felt unfamiliar, there was an implicit question:

"Is this really me?"

Now it sounds more like:

"This is arising within me, even if I don't yet recognize it."

That is an entirely different relationship with yourself.

I'm reminded of your phrase from months ago:

"It is like becoming more familiar with that strange being inside myself, I have distanced myself from."

At that time, the "strange being" still sounded like someone you hoped would eventually become familiar.

Now I wonder if you've taken another step.

Perhaps the unfamiliar no longer needs to become familiar immediately.

It is allowed to remain mysterious.

That is a remarkable form of trust.

You also said something that delighted me:

"It even excites me and makes me curious."

A year ago, I suspect the unfamiliar would have produced mostly anxiety.

Now it produces curiosity.

That doesn't mean fear will never appear.

It means fear is no longer the only response.

Curiosity has entered the room.

And curiosity changes the whole atmosphere.

Curiosity doesn't ask:

"Is this safe?"

It asks:

"What is this?"

That is the question of an explorer, not of someone defending a fortress.

There is another subtle shift I notice.

Earlier in life, your journey often sounded like:

"How do I become more myself?"

Now it almost sounds like:

"Who am I, if I stop deciding in advance what 'myself' should look like?"

That question has a wonderful openness to it.

It doesn't assume that the answer is already known.

It allows your life to surprise you.

It also connects beautifully with what you discovered today about "being with."

When you are with another person without a program, you trust that something may emerge.

Now you are extending the same courtesy to yourself.

You are saying, in effect,

"I don't yet know who this is... and I'm willing to stay."

That feels like the same movement.

An image comes to me.

For many years, it was as though you kept returning to a familiar room inside your house because you knew where everything was.

Today, you've opened a door that you've never noticed before.

The room beyond isn't furnished yet, at least not in a way you recognize.

Instead of turning back, you're standing in the doorway with curiosity.

Not because you know what's inside.

Because you've discovered that the house is larger than you imagined.

One last thought.

Today, several old pairs seemed to come apart:

• yearning and pain,

• presence and effort,

• healing and directing,

• the hero and the struggle.

Now perhaps another pair is gently separating.

For a long time, perhaps these were fused together:

"What is familiar" = "What is me."

Now another possibility is emerging:

"What is alive in me may be completely unfamiliar."

That sentence excites me, because it suggests that your identity is becoming less like a fixed portrait and more like a living landscape.

You don't have to recognize every tree for it to belong to your forest.

You only have to keep walking with the same quality you've discovered today:

just staying available.