I was conditioned to hyper-attunement when young.
To notice — for how could I not — the vagaries
and inconsistencies of the humans around me.
And so I sought answers — which now seems absurd,
as if there ever were any.

Instead of realizing — a thing learned
later in life, after many experiences —
that life, by definition, requires living.
Not planned or controlled,
but stepping onto its stage,
and not without consequences.
Even when we do the best we can,
we are still wading through.
Living it.

Daunting, really, especially
in the midst of chaos.
Even if we think we know more than we do.

Fundamentalist religions attempt
to provide a container,
but it is only one container —
and a disempowering one, at that.
There are rules which, if done “right,”
insinuate themselves through repetition
and eventually land as one’s own truth.
Our inner voice.
And we learn to trust that.

In my case, that was a mistake.

I never settled, as a result
of man-made guidelines.
It took me years to discover
that the best voice of conscience was my own.
I now realize that was the voice
of intuition. My voice.
Not memorized and internalized
from another’s viewpoint.

Part of reclaiming my inner authority
was learning it was no longer
my responsibility to convey,
with missionary zeal,
what worked for me as New Truth —
a new religion, if you like.
Instead, it might empower others
to discover their own inner compass.

I had convinced myself that control
masqueraded as care,
and realized how easily
the preacher’s self-assurance
translated into something combustible
living within.

From parents to preachers,
I had no examples
of anything else to emulate.

Now. I am learning restraint — and this matters.
And because it is important to me,
I will not set myself on fire
to illuminate another’s fog,
leaving myself burned
by my own passion.

Integrity, I am discovering,
is not louder when shouted.
It is steadier
when lived.

Mahukona ~ bj 2026