Training wheels

I love mornings.  What was for decades a ritual that I enjoyed in solitude -- and fiercely protected and defended as "me" time -- is now shared by the love in my life. He is not an intrusion...he is an evolution.

I stagger from the bedroom to the kitchen where I grind the beans and get the coffee pot working. I carefully set out two cups in front of the brewing pot, then I feed the cats, and put away any dishes that have dried from the night before. After only half the cold water has left the reservoir, I fill the cup on the right, mine, with the very strong brew that has made it to the carafe, and then sit down on the couch in the sun room. Francis, the "dog-cat," hurls all 15 pounds of himself onto my lap and we play the "no kneading, lay down" game.  I sip my "espresso" and stare off into space for a while, letting the caffeine awaken my nervous system out of its sleepy dullness.

Like magic, when the coffee pot is finished, Ray comes out and fills his own cup, and brings the pot over to refill mine.  I can make words now, and we exchange a few about mundane things.  "How did you sleep?"  "What is on your agenda today?"

We use the word "agenda" like a private joke between us. He a retired attorney and me a former corporate middle manager, our "agendas" today are often light-hearted expressions of gratitude that we are living the lives we live now.  "I was going to bring in some wood and maybe shred a few more files."  We are enjoying the music of life by listening to the silence in between the notes. 

Our cups full, we then sit on the couch holding hands and let the morning unfold.  Windows give us a view of the world outside -- sometimes they reveal sunshine pouring through the trees, often they show us rain.  We share in silence for a while, and sometimes we use words.  And often the words between us take on a temporary life form of their own, and like an undertow, they draw us, pull us, into a stream, and we are in "class."  On these mornings, we discover after what seems like only a few minutes that hours have gone by.  Today, hunger begged us to look at the clock, and it was somehow 2pm.  Where did the time go?  Where did we go?

We are in the flow.  We let go of everything we are holding on to, not by struggling with them or resisting them or ferreting them out with a technique, but by just noticing them in the lightness of the flow and watching them dissipate. With each concept that dissipates, we sink deeper.  I think we are sinking into the Self.  After many, many mornings of this, there is more Me with me.

Today the flow led me into something that has been like a grain of sand to the oyster:  A part of me recognizes the beauty in the pearl that has formed, but another part of me feels it is still an unwelcome intrusion.

As I have written before, this chapter of my life has introduced many surprising changes, including the ability to "channel."  Today I realized how much I do not like that word. It is frustrating because I would like to disown the whole issue, and write it off as an unimportant hypnotic phenomenon.  Yet it has been so helpful to Ray and me both, and I can not deny the spine tingling truth I feel in the words that are shared. But it all has had a wrong-feeling way about it. Let me explain.

It's like the Looney Tunes cartoon character who runs so fast that he runs right off the cliff, but he keeps running anyway with success...until someone tells him its impossible to be doing what he's doing, and he crashes.  I have felt aware of the cartoonish aspects of opening to other voices who speak words I have not intended in voices I don't normally use and with gestures that aren't mine.  I have felt clearly aware that I am running in the air without a parachute and that it's not possible, not really, to do this.  No matter all my intellectualizing and conceptually writing off things that the linear mind can't understand: there has remained a cognitive dissonance within me.

But today I felt a new understanding melting away my internal rift.  I laugh at the silly, gentle "set up" that something so Divine has orchestrated.

When I channel, I don't go away....but the idea of who I am is laid aside.  That is to say, I feel like I somehow become a clean sheet of paper that words and stories can be written on.  I enter this deep, gentle, powerful stream -- or I allow it to come forward out of hiding -- and let the expressions happen.  There's no thing to block them, so they flow.

I laugh!  This is so funny and so perfectly ingenious for so many reasons, not the least of which how embarrassing it is.  I have confessed my "guilty secret" to a few friends and family and this mostly-unnoticed blog all in an attempt to get rid of the guilt.  Like a bad case of static-cling, it does not go away.

What a perfect classroom this is!  Who exactly exists that can be embarrassed?  Who has the need to be considered seriously?  Who feels strongly that anything she knows must be understood or shared by others? 

It is a teaching that has so many facets I can not count them all...I get lost in the joy that each one yields.  I feel like I'm cracking the nut, I'm on the scent of the Holy Grail.  I'm finally getting to the bottom of my most serious addiction:  the need of acceptance and approval of others. But that is only desired by a little shadow figure that has no reality and must pump itself up somehow to feel like it does. And when that is not hogging all my awareness, what is? 

It feels like I'm me without borders, or like I'm a hollow container and what fills me up can not be contained.

Of course, my Teacher only had me deal with these core matters, like approval and acceptance seeking, after I was set up comfortably with the love of my life at my side, which teaches yet another lesson:  Our Teacher is benevolent and gentle, truly.  Sacrifice is part of the ego's story.

I am a baby. This gift is my training wheels, and the Buddha is teaching me to ride a bike.  I enter the flow when I channel in a ritualistic way...a part of me outside of time -- the part that is Awake and aware of being all that is -- speaks to the part of me still holding on to time, to the story of bodies, to the story of Laura. 

But one day, she won't be so important to me anymore.  I can feel the possibility of it all like I never could before, experiences that are like teaser trailers of the "big event."  Even so I expect I will be surprised when it happens because it is not what I expected.  I do know it won't come from "trying."   But maybe one day I will enter the flow while I'm drinking my first few sips of coffee and never come out....

Comments

  1. oh my dear friend, what perfect timing for this blog to hit my email. there are bits of me throughout. thank you for sharing. I struggle needlessly with worldly things labelled as dark and evil. I reach for the little graces of god; like 'floaties' they help me keep my head above water. And when I read your entry, I floated for a while. thank you xo

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