DEAR MASTER ….

DEAR MASTER ….

✨AI Generated

By Carolina Oquendo

I was slumped in one of those cold, plastic airport chairs near Gate C27, staring blankly at a vending machine. My flight was delayed – again – and I felt like the universe was rubbing salt in an already tender wound. The tiredness wasn’t just physical; it was the kind of bone-deep weariness that comes from carrying around invisible, unresolved stuff for too long. I wasn’t sure if I was more frustrated or disappointed, but it was all there, swirling together like the world’s murkiest smoothie.

And, of course, he showed up.

I noticed him from the corner of my eye, striding toward me with that playful, casual air that somehow made me feel seen and mildly irritated at the same time. The Master – my Master, I suppose – looked utterly at ease, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. He plopped down in the seat next to me, rubbing his hands together like he was settling in for a juicy conversation.

“So,” he said with a knowing grin, “what’s got you in this delightful funk?”

I exhaled sharply through my nose, like some kind of annoyed bull. “I’m just… over it. All of it. I thought I was finally past this whole thing – expectations, needing people to be a certain way – but it turns out I’m not. It’s like I’ve been dragging around this giant suitcase full of junk, and every time I think I’ve unpacked it, someone throws in another pair of shoes I didn’t ask for.”

He chuckled softly. “Shoes, huh? Let me guess – probably mismatched?”

“Ugh, yes! And scuffed. But you know what I mean.”

I leaned back, trying to shake off the ridiculous image of a suitcase full of smelly, ugly shoes. “I thought I’d made progress. I really did. But here I am, stuck in this endless cycle of hoping, trying, feeling a little better, and then crashing right back down again. And now I’m just… tired. I’m tired of me, of my mind, my thoughts, my need to control. It’s like my mind constantly betrays me, and I don’t even know what to trust anymore.”

He nodded, his expression warm but focused, like he could see straight through my tangled knot of emotions.

“Own it,” he said simply.

I blinked. “Own what?”

“All of it. The exhaustion. The frustration. The fact that you’re feeling betrayed by your mind. Own it. Don’t try to shove it aside or dress it up with affirmations. Just… own it.”

There it was, a little flicker of hope. Maybe this time he’d give me something new and practicable, something that would finally break this cycle. I leaned forward slightly. “Okay… and then what?”

He grinned again. “Then stop trying to chip away the parts of yourself you think don’t belong.”

“You’re sitting there,” he continued, leaning forward, “chiseling away at yourself, trying to craft this perfect version of who you think you should be – a Master, no less – and then you get frustrated because the sculpture doesn’t turn out the way you imagined. But that’s not the point.”

I frowned, waiting for the inevitable punchline.

✨AI Generated

He softened his tone, almost as if he could feel the tender spots I didn’t want to acknowledge. “Depression, anxiety, exhaustion – it’s all part of the cycle. And yes, it feels like you’re at the bottom of it right now. But it’s not just the low end of some pointless ride. It’s the propulsion you need to move into what comes next – the final stage of this long journey you’ve been on as the old, incarnating human in biology. That’s why it’s so important to own whatever you’re going through. None of it is a mistake.”

I swallowed hard, not sure if I should feel relieved or more irritated. “But it still feels like I’m falling apart,” I muttered.

He nodded. “Of course it does. Because you are falling apart, at least the old you. This isn’t just about feeling bad for no reason. It’s identity dissolution. The version of you that you’ve been for so long, the one you’ve invested all this time and energy into, it’s crumbling, and yeah, that’s terrifying. The mind wants to cling, to reinforce it, to put the pieces back together. But you don’t have to do that anymore. Just take a deep breath.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s your big advice? Just breathe?”

“Yes,” he said, smirking. “Take a breath and let it go. That old identity isn’t dead. It’s just… evolving. The space it’s creating is opening you up to entirely new forms of expression, many different types of identities, not just the rigid one you’ve been sculpting for yourself.”

“But the tenacity, the determination, the relentless commitment,” I protested, “is what’s gotten me here. Are you saying it doesn’t matter anymore?”

He laughed softly. “It’s not that it doesn’t matter; it’s that it won’t work from here. Those qualities, as admirable as they’ve been, will only create a kind of gravity now. They’ll drag you back into old patterns, old doubts, old struggles. The mind will cling to them because it thinks they’re the only tools it has left. But this part of the journey is different. It’s not about grit or willpower anymore. It’s about trust, allowing, and grace. It’s about knowing, deep in your being, that this is all natural. That you don’t need to fight your way forward. You can just let go.”

I let his words hang in the air, a lump forming in my throat. “You make it sound so easy,” I said quietly.

He smiled. “It’s not easy for the human mind, no. The mind will fight it every step of the way; it’s strange like that, always trying to convince you that its illusions are real. But when you shift into the ‘I Am,’ when you allow yourself to simply be, it becomes very clear. The mind isn’t the one driving this process. You are, and you’ve already chosen this.”

Something in me stirred, just a flicker, but enough to make me pause.

“So,” I asked finally, “what am I supposed to do when it feels like everything is collapsing?”

He leaned back, his eyes sparkling with that infuriating mix of wisdom and humor. “You take a deep breath. You own it – all of it – and you stop trying to sculpt your way out. You’re not a statue, or a perfect idea to be shaped anymore. You’re the air, the space, the fluidity. The Master doesn’t need definition. It doesn’t need fixing. It simply is.”

I sat with that for a moment, my mind still spinning, still clinging, but something deeper, quieter, was starting to surface.

I let out a long, shaky breath and whispered, “I exist.”

The Master gave me a slow, approving nod. “Exactly.”

It wasn’t loud or flashy, but it was enough. Enough to remind me that I didn’t need the answers, the sculpting, or the endless cycles of trying to figure it all out. I just had to trust.

When I opened my eyes, the Master was watching me, his grin softer now. “You’ll be fine,” he said lightly. “Well, unless you miss your flight. They’re boarding.”

I glanced at the gate and scrambled to my feet, suddenly realizing my group was already in line. “Wait – are you coming too?”

He shrugged, already leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “Oh, I’m always here. Whether you notice or not is up to you.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips. “Of course you are.”

And as I walked toward the gate, something felt lighter. Not fixed, not solved, but lighter.

And that was enough.

The words of the Master in this story are based on Adamus’ channels from:

Walk on Series – Shoud 8

Art of Benching series – Shoud 8

Illumination series – Shoud 10

Wings of Hope series – Shoud 1