Today is the six month anniversary of my conversion, sitting on a stool in a loud, busy casino, in Blackhawk, Colorado. I was playing penny slots until I found myself, quite unexpectedly, 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 old Deeply Awake posts one by one, line by line, scanning not only for typographical but logical errors. I don’t edit and I don’t worry over these essays. I write them, I check for spelling errors, and then I hit “send.”
If I didn’t do it like this, you’d have not seen a single essay.
But now I can take my time, a little, and I am excited to do it, but also in a weird sort of reverence. My impressions today are based on what I was like 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 days gone by and there, standing high and mighty in a field of ordinary days are these moments, these markers which assist me to capture for re-experiencing, not just remember, an 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, it didn’t so much as slow as appropriately stop.
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.
That seemed like a tragic misuse of fun, so I turned my attention to The Future. Then my body accelerated phenomenally and then SLAMMED into a point of attention: my vision, my awareness of this new place.
I was happy to discover I slid into a bed in an expensive hotel. My suite had textured green grass-like wallpaper. I was in a hotel! It smelled good, and I felt strong and empowered and happy.
I was in New York, I think. It was someplace good, a harbinger of things to come, in perfect harmony and balance, inside me was excitement, and certainty, and giggles, and even with all of that, I knew a deep peace, a stillness. A 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 believing all manner of things while it has you in its 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, “Shit, honey, you only work one shift this week now. You can’t keep this boat afloat on $300 a week. Enjoy your airy-fairy floating, but, sweetheart, you’re barely hanging on here. And honey, this is never going to get better. I hope you know. There is abundant proof that this death spiral you are in is can self-correct. You do know that, right? I mean, it’s just math. So, now what do you want to do with the free time you have left this afternoon?”
It smiled in that self-satisfying way only huge bitches have.
Then I flashed on the bigger work situation, and to what I’d wanted to do before I was so rudely interrupted by this unreliable contract work in a hospital I don’t think sucks,
I was going to get a job doing home health. Doing that, I’d have variety and independence in how my work flowed day to day. I wouldn’t be stuck in one place for twelve hours. I could actually have my weekends free.
I’m a little slow on the uptick sometimes, but I began to realize that this visitor had served her purpose, and for that I am grateful.
It’s a pain when she shows up, though.
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. I get tricked into believing her horseshit 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 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 by now, but it turns out I’d only 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, with 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 and that, I sweetly ask them to now bend, now tilt your head, now smile at me.
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, my toes grabbing at the fibers as I thrill to 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 a breath away.
I’m seeing that being here is 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. I was 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 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, lovingly describing the redemptive and transformative nature of forgiveness, oh that radical and profound and prophetic forgiveness. We will remind them, any way they will let us, that they are worthy of the love that creates and sustains them every moment.
How could they not be?
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 tolerate my presence.
Sometimes, 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 love letter to you, to me, and to All That Is. It is written with words, and with devotion as real as the gods who dance atop my laptop as I look up, stretch my shoulders, sigh, and then once again place fingertips on little black plastic squares, and one by one, letter by letter, everything is released, everything comes alive, and I am once again bobbing on a sea of understanding and love.
My visitors, dressed in their shiny clothes, walking as living myths, they slow now, spreading flower petals, the pages instantly 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, the wish is uttered, the sun sets, and it is now forever known that you wish to give this away while sharing it intimately.
The prayer is heard: to know that at least one other person in this world has seen what you have seen, and knows what you know.
What else can there be, in the end, but helping people remember how big they are, how smart and good and bold they are. How creative and lyrical, poetic and funny they have been, and are most likely going to be again. 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 review, in chronological order, every blog I’ve posted as Deeply Awake, because I am always thinking about getting it ready to “peddle” it, I guess you’d say.
Mostly, though, I just wanted it written down somewhere, all my understandings and ideas, so that when I forget stuff and then get sad, I can be reminded of the truth, and then I can feel better.
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 overheard a couple people at Starbucks talking about my work, and one had a Deeply Awake volume in her hand…. How would that feel?
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 for me is going to find me! Those who would enjoy it will read it! It’s already done!
I already did it.
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 are the ties which allow us to offer love to each other, as only we would understand.
As it began this day six months ago, as it arcs into the forever of the void, I remain your bold and tender confidante, your brave and true friend, and truly, never anything more but deeply awake.