DEEPLY AWAKE – THE LOST

We are, each one of us, lost.

Each of us disconnected, willingly and joyfully, we came here and donned the veil. We convinced ourselves that the veil making everything we touch, sense, taste, see was wrapped around us in a permanently maddening way, and that the only way to find any peace was to venture without, amid the folds of that veil, and out there find peace, find some salvation out there.

In a smile. In a home. In a pet. In work. In child rearing. In study. At church. At the office. At the bar. At the farmacy. Anywhere. The veil is out there, and good is out there too,

So it went.

We took it on, this veil. I think, though, that as the veil has lifted, as the curtains come tumbling down in my life now, I see myself primly lifting my bent fingers to my head, and there is my burka. Buttoned to it is my veil. My hands, knowing a truth I do not posses, nimbly unbutton this veil from my headscarf.

Long ago, I, myself, put this veil on my head.

I walked for five decades cursing the darkness and hating those who pressed up too hard against this veil, smothering me, unaware of the horror my face was expressing, knowing only their own blindness, their own darkness.

I was given gifts this morning, and while unwrapping them, up my mother's face came.

My mom. My impenetrable wall. My greatest koan. The one whose role it was to soften the blows life was to deal me, constantly in the corner, frowning in a detached way, looking out the window, smoking and wishing she was anywhere else.

I remember little kindness from her. I remember judgment. I remember never being good enough, tame enough, happy enough, girlie enough, never enough. No one and nothing gave her peace, although she tried it all.

DEEPLY AWAKE – SHIFT

Last night, I worked what will have probably been my last shift at the hospital which has sustained me since April. I practiced with some tough characters: the controlling charge nurse, the uppity nurse I went to lunch with and appreciated good reasons to never do lunch with her again. I had an hour and a half nap. I drank lots of decaf. I ate cheese. I smoked in 18 degree weather. And through it all, I was unaffected.

All through the night, I surprised myself by finding myself feeling so neutral. And when I was not neutral, I was feeling brotherhood. Appreciation. I was seeing the humor in things, I joked and I found that just by talking, just by opening my mouth and making sound, with the one change being that nothing I thought or said was offensive or harmful to myself or others, I saw how much ease I was creating.

Funny how the pushy charge nurse decided against her plans and wishes, and spent her nap break just hanging out with me, while she crocheted and I played video games. I saw the borderline mental health worker ease, and the conflict we'd previously had just felt erased. I never remember that event, but she does. She was relaxed last night, more easy, less constricted. Still guarded, but I know that's her stuff, not mine.

DEEPLY AWAKE – REAL

I could go on and on about what is going on with my new job, and how I feel about it all, but I have no interest. It's just another set of circumstances, these better than those that have come before, and there will be lots of nice people today on my first day, and it will be surprisingly easy and effortless to work there.

OK, now that that is done, let's get on with the real reason we are here: Do you ever, even after watching a real good video on youtube, or reading something really inspirational, do you ever just look around, shake your head, and just simply refuse to believe all this stuff about energy and shifts and change is even real?

Does it ever just sneak up on you, that your beliefs are unusual, not held by most, and could be 100% wrong? What if it is all wrong.

Now, these waves of doubt used to hit a lot harder than they do now. And thankfully, I now have a few months of evidence, so that when the doubts come up, I can list all the things that are irrefutable and totally opposite what could and should have happened.

I am uncomfortable today. I am wearing a dress, worried about what I will encounter at my new job today, wondering just how I might wind up screwing this up, wishing I had a more comfortable bra, just wishing I wasn't so lazy and retarded.

DEEPLY AWAKE – ANYMORE

I have to admit I have msnbc on in the background, crowing about how good things are today, grousing about how terrible some things are, mentioning what the White House staff are going to be enjoying in their soup bowls a few hours from now.

But I feel divorced from it, certainly not as plugged into the drama and the intricacies. That used to be what I turned on very first thing, and I watched at least three hours of news a night. But those were my history days, when I was reading biography after biography, history book after history book.

It's different now, and driving home from taking Sam to school, contemplating the 36 hours of alone time I now have to enjoy, I found myself thinking about my instructions this morning upon awakening.

Anymore, it's not dreamscapes I bring back from sleep with me, it's instructions. Sometimes only one word, sometimes two.

My awareness today: The outside matching the inside. That's it. But those words are merely symbols for an entire experience I had while dreaming, I can just feel it!

DEEPLY AWAKE – DON'T TELL ANYBODY

Mike Birbiglia bases his masterpiece “Sllepwalk With Me” roughly on the structure contained in those three little words. A raison d'etre, a clarion call to a distant shore, “Don't tell anybody,” has been something we have all been inculcated to, a culture of shame, a culture of closed doors and separation and want, emotional neglect, letting dreams die on the vine, letting hopes shrink, all under the hot sun of “Don't tell anybody.”

That's why I like doing this blog. I am learning that with every unveiling I just feel better. Yes, I feel wobbly, and no one will ever know just how much I need those posted replies. They have kept me going.

Imagine going into a floor-to-ceiling mirrored changing room, and in there is the one outfit that you most want to wear, the one ball gown or tux or dashiki which just LOOKS like how you want to look. It's not like anything anyone has ever seen, and even though you know you will be over-dressed, you cannot stop yourself, you have to slip it on.

It fits like a glove, and your body, well, it's weird to tell you this, but your whole body, and your face, well, they just LOOK different. YOU look different.

Aw, this is just too good to pass up. You have to burst out of that dressing room and show everybody. See the sparkles? Observe the fine hand stitching, feel the rightness of the cloth.

And there you stand, in your finery, the one outfit which most closely resembles what you think you really should look like. What kind of reception do you get? Are there cheers? Are there cat calls? Are there groans and is there eye rolling? Or do you have a couple of fans who whoop, laugh and cry out, “You have never looked better in your life!”?

That's what those comments are to me.