Tag: raw truth

Once Enlightened… Your Problems Have Just Begun

The illusion is that awakening is the end of the road. That the moment the self dissolves, suffering bows out, and the curtain falls. But what if that moment is not an arrival, but a beginning?

Before awakening, the ego fights battles it believes are personal. After awakening, the battlefield is not smaller—it’s vaster, quieter, and infinitely more subtle. The old problems—desire, fear, control—don’t disappear. They shape-shift. They clothe themselves in spiritual garments and reintroduce themselves as paradoxes: “Should I speak, or is silence more aligned?” “Is this surrender or passivity?” “Am I still pretending there’s a me who can do or not do?”

No one warns you that after the clouds part, the sun may burn.

Liberation is not the end of pain. It’s the end of avoidance. One no longer flinches. One no longer hides. You feel fully raw, exposed, without anesthesia. And still, you sit. Still, you breathe. Still, you bow.

You now see with clarity what others can’t. You watch the mechanisms of ego turning behind the eyes of those you love, and the weight of compassion grows heavier, not lighter. You begin to weep for the world—not out of despair, but from a reverence so deep it bends your knees.

Once you’ve seen through the illusion of self, the world becomes impossibly intimate. Every leaf becomes your body. Every scream, your own. Every cruelty, a mirror reflecting the exact frequency of your forgotten selves. There is no refuge. There is only recognition.

You don’t get to leave the world. You return to it—with your skin ripped open, your boundaries gone, and your heart unarmored. Enlightenment doesn’t make you untouchable. It makes you unable to turn away.

There are no medals for realization. No applause for dissolving. No reward for merging with the absolute. What you get, instead, is a silence that never leaves you. A love so vast it terrifies the small mind. A clarity that strips you of every comfortable lie.

And you carry it.

Not as a badge.
As a burden.
As a blessing.
As a vow.

You walk through the world invisible, but more alive than ever. And your problems—they don’t vanish. They deepen. They purify. They sanctify.

Not because you are broken.

But now, you are whole.

Morgan O. Smith

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The Wild That Waits Beneath the Surface

Between the cracks of a hardened exterior, something untamed begins to grow. What appears rigid, guarded, and impenetrable often hides the very pulse of life yearning to break through. Beneath the layers we construct to survive—defense mechanisms, cultivated personas, rehearsed identities—there exists a terrain untouched by conditioning. A wildness that remembers.

This is not the chaos of recklessness, but the primal intelligence of what is unfiltered and true. A force that doesn’t ask permission to bloom, yet waits patiently for silence, for softness, for the moment the surface begins to fracture. Then, without warning, the wild arrives.

Those fractures are not failures. They are doorways. Every heartbreak, every moment of doubt, every dismantling of certainty is a thinning of the veil—a soft opening. And what comes through is not ruin but rebirth.

What is wild has always been whole. The mind may resist it—accustomed to order, craving control—but the heart knows its rhythm. The body remembers its language. And once touched by it, you no longer strive to be “put together.” You begin to trust the spaces where things fall apart.

Growth doesn’t require perfection. It demands honesty. And the most fertile soil is often found not in polished appearances, but in the broken places where the untamed is allowed to root.

Let the wild speak. Let it stretch through the fractures of who you thought you had to be. That’s where life gets real. That’s where healing begins.

Morgan O. Smith

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