Is this you?

My honest attempt at explaining myself, this crazy world, and where you fit in (if you do).

Can I be straight with you?

The Undoing Verse is not for everyone.

I know this is a weird way to start, but it seems like the only honest way.

It’s important I start here because I used to think and write like it could be. For everyone, I mean. That if I could communicate the logic of spirituality clearly enough or evoke the allure with vivid enough adjectives or word pictures, the lights would turn on. (If I failed, it’s because I’m not making any sense and my illustrations are bad!)

Even though my first dozen something issues were absolutely transformative for me, they carried a little bit of this underlying need to figure out and dispense the logic of the truth.

Now that I’ve become more clear on how I got here and how I’m impenetrable to others (and even my “wiser” self) when my own light is turned off, I realize that’s not how this Awakening thing works.

What’s driven me to this exact moment, penning this “manifesto” at 6 am with my hair looking like it’s 5 am, is not logical. Nor is it the product of anyone conceptualizing heaven on Earth, no matter how coherent or entrancing.

Sometimes, people become spiritual because they experience an event so disruptive and extraordinary, it completely reorganizes how they see reality. That’s not what happened to me.

For me, it’s been a persistent sense of disillusionment, countless low-grade (and a few high-octane) moments of depression, and death (all kinds).

If I’m honest (and I can’t not be), I’ve spent my whole life managing these feelings of discontent. The underlying feeling that most of life was this draining senselessness.

From the very beginning, the pursuit of high performance, status, and money never adequately motivated me. Sometimes, if I squinted, there’d be a glimmering excitement, but it would rarely stay. The initial verve would be flattened and marred by a big, fat Who Cares at the end of the proverbial rainbow.

What generally pushed me forward in life was fear, the spiky underbelly of desire.

I really thought I was missing a chip in my brain. Or more “practically,” I had some kind of chemical imbalance, and with the right cocktail of neurotransmitters coursing through me, my brain would want what seems to make everyone else do things in this life.

So I optimistically took my Do Things cocktail, and I embarked on a quest to figure out what was broken. I wanted to fix myself. Over the course of several years, I pivoted my focus again and again and again to what I saw as the solution. Some of the practical stuff like taking care of myself helped stabilize me, but still the existential void persisted.

The truth, ever patient, slowly revealed itself at the rate I allowed myself to see it.

I thought my compass was broken. But it had been pointing elsewhere—always inward inexplicably—for a reason! So I relented and started digging.

I let myself see what was inside. I flinched and held my breath, but then I started accepting the unsightly things. I tensed then softened a little. I disassociated often. I surrendered sometimes. I accepted not knowing everything or, more accurately, anything. I tried my best to suspend my deeply entrenched skepticism toward it all, including myself. I abandoned myself. I came back. I forgave myself when I lost my footing about a thousand times.

In the gradual clearing of doubt and fear opened a spaciousness within me I didn’t know was possible to experience.

A realm where words fall flat.

I unearthed a current of energy that, at its most intense, makes me feel like I’m walking on electric air. A deepening self-acceptance that allows me to fall deeply in love with my essence, transcending whatever I see in the mirror. A magnetism that makes me want to kiss strangers on the lips and dance while I wait for the light to turn green. On the softer side of the spectrum, I feel I’m being gently held by something greater, and that all is and will always be okay.

Perhaps you too have experienced these moments of insanity. Slowly but surely, this inner world I’m excavating (and co-creating with my awareness) is reorganizing my external world… to the extent I’m allowing it.

The truth is this business of letting my inner world drive the bus is absolutely stomach-churning and heart-wrenching. Reorganizing requires a crumbling of the old.

Deaths, little and big, litter the path.

It has led to immense feelings of disconnection and grief. An inner voice constantly reminding me I don’t belong here. Not to mention the self-doubt at every corner.

Am I a sociopath for not caring about “normal” things anymore?

Am I losing everything, including my mind?

All of this unraveling (or “undoing”) has even made me physically sick.

Why am I telling you any of this?

To admit that while I believe in what I’m writing so deeply, I didn’t choose it. So how could I possibly entertain that I’d be able to choose this for you? Or even that you could choose this for yourself?

Any attempts at me convincing anyone of anything is wasted energy.

If any of this resonates, it’s because the awareness already exists inside of you. Your soul has already germinated the seed; the rest is inevitable.

So, what is The Undoing now then?

The Undoing Verse is here to gently hold your hand if you’re seeing past the noise and are more interested in hearing the music.

It’s a permission slip to start trusting and living in the impractical and “inadvisable” magic of the unknown.

It exists to make waking up feel less lonely, sure, but also to make this process of transformation the literal ride of a lifetime. To remind us to approach it as a dance that’s as fluid, light and nonsensical as life itself.

The Undoing Verse is the intersection where the cosmic meets the comical.

It’s a leap of faith into an alternative realm of understanding reality and yourself. A world of places from an airport lounge to an urban garden that helps you remember who we really are and what is possible for us, which is everything.

It’s as much fantasy as your current inner experience is fantasy, the shifting of which will profoundly change the world. The “real” one.

There are no fixed lessons, although there are prevailing themes. The thing that makes The Verse real is your awareness, making you just as much of a co-creator.

Each place in The Verse naturally builds on others, sometimes in unpredictable ways. I too am discovering this world alongside you. (If you think I’m the orchestrator of this universe, thank god you’re mistaken!)

Transformation is rarely one seismic event. It’s a death by a thousand surrenders. Until one fateful day, a delicate breeze crumbles an entire wall separating your soul from the rest of the world.

I’ll hold the portal open for you as long as you need. Whether this speaks to you or you’re embarking on your own crazy adventure, know that I love you.

See you on the other side,

Silvi