DEEPLY AWAKE – HALF A YEAR
Today is the six month anniversary of my conversion, sitting on a stool in Blackhawk, Colorado, playing penny slots, talking to what I understood were my guides and angels.
Six months have elapsed, and I am sitting within this awareness, feeling stunned, feeling eternally grateful, feeling a little sheepish and sweet toward my questioning, hungry soul.
I am about to dive into reading these deeply awake posts one by one, line by line, scanning not only for typographical but logical errors. I am excited to do it, but also in a weird sort of reverence. My impressions today are based not after this full immersion, but before. I look forward to studying the contrasts of these two states.
I wanted to clarify what I mean when I say, “When I woke up in January,” which was to have been the sentence you just read instead. “When I woke up....” It seems like a definitive descriptor of a state of consciousness. And I will let it stand as such. There are moments, for me, some moments are ever clear, never altered, monuments, some sort of plasmic megalith, and I can turn my heart to big days gone by and there, standing high and mighty in a field of ordinary days are these moments, markers which assist me to capture, not just remember, an internal event, an awakening, a realization, a total surrender.
This morning while listening to Bashar finish a thing on something important and interesting which I have completely spaced, I sensed I was where I was, but then I had this amazing acceleration... it felt like I was on the most intense roller coaster I can imagine. But the roller coaster was going forward wonderfully, perfectly quickly, and, not up, not down. Forward.
And it was so much fun. And it was perfection. Do you know what I mean, a moment in time that you are absolutely aware is pure and utter and complete PERFECTION, Oh the symmetry, Oh the Divine timing, Oh the bliss and the outrageous permission to have FUN. And it kept going, and it kept going, and just in the perfect time, in the perfect manner, I didn't so much as slow as I appropriately stopped.
As I was thinking about decelerating but not wholly conscious in this thinking (therein was the symmetry!) I had a flash of fear because I was suddenly convinced I was conjuring up my next reality, the next chapter, the next place to be, I mean IMMEDIATE news, around the corner kind of stuff. And I had a fear because I was convinced, just for a moment, that I was going to slide into a broken body, that I had somehow landed myself in a physical mess, and there'd be much valor and courage and gnashing of teeth and heroism and blah blah blah. And that seemed like a tragic misuse of fun, so I was happy to discover I slid into a bed, with green-grass fancy pants wallpaper, and I was in a hotel and it smelled good, and I felt strong and empowered and happy. It was in New York, I think. It was someplace good, a harbinger of things to come, in perfect harmony and balance, just a deep peace and stillness and knowingness.
Then I think I slept a little, and now I wait for time to pass before I can pick up my son. Although I have a contract which stipulates that this cannot happen, I was canceled again today! And I really couldn't be happier. It's fine by me.
Funny how fear is like a really crazy boyfriend or girlfriend who just cannot get it that you are done. Like orbiting space junk, bumping into you with heat and urgency, still able to trick you into its albeit different wavelength. It hasn't happened to me often with people, but it happens to me all the time with that little bitch, fear.
There she was, right there, by my bed, when I got the blessed news that I had a day I always have had off, off. She smiled, crossed her arms, lit a smoke and said, “Shize, you only have one shift this week now. You can't keep this boat afloat of 300 a week. You're barely hanging on here. This is BS. This is never going to get better. I hope you know. There is abundant proof sitting in your closet and drawers that this financial spiral you are in is can never self correct. You do know that, right. I mean, it's just math. So, now what do you want to do?”
Then I flashed on what I'd wanted to do before I was so rudely interrupted by this bogus contract in a hospital I don't really like, I was going to get a job doing home health. When I have flexibility, am not stuck in one pplace for twelve ungodly hours, and can be home with my kide and have lots of free weekend time. Duh. I'm a little slow on the uptick sometimes. So this visitor served her purpose, and for that I am grateful, but it's still such a pain when she shows up.
She's misguided. Overprotective. She's misinterpreted things and thinks she still has authority, so she comes around and throws her considerable weight around once in a while. She's a bully and a fool, but it's quite heartbreaking, because she knows she's being a bully and a fool, and she's embarrassed that she's doing it, so she gives you an extra dose of shame and blame with any and all transmissions. It sort of clings to her like curry. It's such a pain, because she's a really good mimic, so she'll invade my thoughts and I get tricked into believing her horse hit about life sentences and fate and struggle and going without and panic.
It's just lies, and it's old, a thankfully memorable refrain of ruin and remaining forever unfulfilled. It is a sweet and poignant lullabye, and I fall for it every damn time.
But here is the truth: I am canceled so much because I don't want to be there and I don't have quite enough courage yet to leap off my personal cliff. I really thought I'd been in the void, but I had been courting. It has been a tantalizing and fulfilling courtship, and now I understand that to go anywhere, I must be everywhere and nowhere. I must be faith alone, conviction in its singular form, focus and joy in that focus, wisdom far beyond that which I have heretofore recognized as my own, words that only come through me. They are not of me.
The words dance on this page like Ganesh and Kali, Shiva and Krishna. They dance, spreading color and charm, clarity and humor. Turning this way, that, now bend, now tilt your head and smile. The abyss is the only thing that is full, and the only now in all the nows dancing through my head, waltzing along this tan shag carpet, tinkling glasses and laughter bubbling up from the corners of this house, the corners of this soul.
I fully expect transfiguration and a sparkly shiny new version of something far grander than what I currently understand as my home, and I anticipate this in the near future. It is not a possibility, nor a probability, it is an energetic fact.
But until then, this is the greatest ride of my life.
I hope with my heart, full of gratitude as it is, for your world to be blossoming for you, in whatever way you are finding useful and fun and simple and clear, but only if that's your way.
There are plenty of us still embroiled, as I was this morning, and as I recognize I will be again.
This is an energetic shift, and opposites are still in play. I have put myself in a position where I get to find ways to make the inevitable fun and easy. This is all sainted. It's all destined. And it's all just as plain and simple as mashed potatoes. It's a breath away.
For me, it's being as a result of my being willing to abandon my identity and everything I ever believed was true, about good and bad, right and wrong, night and day, shadow and light. It's being willing to imagine, just for a moment, that there is NO bad in the world. None. Not a speck. Now, keeping that in mind, how is it that things are happening?
If every single thing going on in my life, without exception, is happening to serve me, I am serving myself rich and loving messages continually, me and all my help, reminding me how loved I am, how worthy I am, how loved everyone is, how worthy everyone is, this then is the place from which I am beginning I can best solve my problems.
Solve your problems like you were the one who set them up, I am encouraged to consider. You know your own thinking, your own humor. These last lessons are loaded with laughs. At least they have been for me.
So, getting back to transfiguration, Ezekiel wheel-within-a-wheel, Jesus going up into a puff of light, I do believe that will occur, and it could be just around the corner, but until then, this will do nicely.
I imagine that each of us are visited occasionally by these robotic ghosts of past selves, scared and small selves, trying to convince us of their own mortality, but we will carry on.
We will whisper to others who, in their soulic or physical extremity finally understand that their littlemind has been leading them far astray and that they are now open to anything that might relieve their suffering, our quiet and ancient words of the redemptive and transformative nature of forgiveness, radical and profound and prophetic forgiveness. That they are worthy of the love that creates and sustains them every moment.
And to the lost, the mean and scared and cruel, those who still think they are in charge, they cannot tolerate the words describing the facts of their own magnificence. Often they cannot really even tolerate my presence. So the only thing I can do is to keep my heart wide open today, and whenever I can, when in company with those with whom I disagree, the unloving, miserly, judgmental, blaming. I do my best. it's hard.
This is a lover letter to you. To me, and to All That Is, as real as the gods who dance these words when I open my laptop. They slow now, spreading flower petals, the page pink and red and orange and blue and violet, like a still sunset you find yourself confronting alone, etching forever in your heart your love of nature, of the world, and your truest desire, to share this love with another. Maybe just one person, maybe everyone, maybe bigger than that. But to give it away. To know that at least one other person in this world has seen and knows what you know.
What else can there be, in the end, just helping people remember how big they are, how smart and good and bold they are. How creative and lyrical, poetic and funny. Even the mean ones.
So, I close now, quiet and certain, happy and grateful that I devoted myself as I have the last six months. I have made a lot of progress. I know that will become evident as I now review, in chronological order, every blog I’ve posted as deeply awake, because I am getting it ready to peddle it, I guess you'd say. I want to have a copy of this thing so that when I forget stuff, I can be reminded. It's kind of selfish, actually.
I want to leave you with the thought that sent me off to sleep giggling. I was sort of low grade sad because I'm not further along in this whole peddling process. And then I imagined what it would feel like to go into work tomorrow with a sappy smile on my face because I'd seen a couple people with my book in their hands on the way into work.... How would that feel? How would it feel to deal with all the tasks and problems and all fear-based nonsense I deal with at work.
And then I had a thought.
Anybody with a laptop or pc or mobile phone can read me. I am already published. Anybody who looks, is open, is going to find me. Those who would enjoy it will read it. It's already done. I already did it.
Ha!
Thank you for making the last six months such a success. Without your kind words, your encouragement and investment, I would not have gone forward. I owe each person who ever posted a reply to one of my blogs a heartfelt word of gratitude. You helped me believe in myself, and gave me the strength I so desperately needed. This has always been a group effort. There are many levels operating here at once. So mysterious and deep.
As began this day six months ago, into the forever of the abyss, I remain your friend and confidante, your brave and true friend, never anything but deeply awake.
