Alex Grey “Oversoul”
Sometimes life literally slaps me in the head, not the kind of smack that hurts or can cause any life damaging concussions, but one of those slaps that helps shake up all the loose brain particles and arrange them in some sort of semblance of order. That’s exactly what happened yesterday, and I’m in a bit of a shock at how quickly it came about. Still, I’m sure the roller coaster ride will continue.
I was not feeling all that happy yesterday. One of my co-workers claims it was the weather, but I don’t think that’s what it was for me. I liked that it got cold, I liked that I wasn’t sweating every two minutes, I didn’t mind the rain. I think it was something else, actually a couple of something elses. Anyway, I let my thoughts go crazy, and even though I promised Jonny (that’s my boyfriend’s name as it gets old always calling him my boyfriend when he’s much more of a person than that) that when I feel a downward spiral coming on, I’ll start singing John Denver’s “Country Road” or Outkast’s “Vibrate,” - nothing was working.
It only got worse as the night got later, and I could feel my anger and sadness reaching a space in my body that was both uncomfortable and ugly. I wanted to go home and meditate, yes, meditate, something I’ve been trying to do more often, and something that I have done the past two nights. But I was nowhere near home and I was losing control.
I got on the subway, and I took out the book I’ve been reading. It’s a conversation between Joseph Campbell and Bill Moyers called “The Power of Myth.” It’s a pretty incredible dialogue, one that’s opened up my perceptions on life, religion, relationships..things like that. Anyway, last night I was reading and something happened. Some sort of larger understanding on the meaning of life, something I had never been able to grasp before. This might sound strange, perhaps new agey, perhaps freakish, maybe loony, I don’t even know if I can accurately write what I want to say, but I’ll try.
When I was a young Jamye and I couldn’t sleep at night, I would often start imagining the concept of death. Not really of how I was going to die, or when it would happen, but I focused more on how you don’t return from death. How death is forever, and ever and ever and ever and ever, and ever, I could never stop the evers…you get the picture. Now granted, I do believe in reincarnation - at least for a limited time - but at that time I didn’t, and at that time I didn’t really understand how to measure forever, *of course I still don’t know how to measure forever and I wanted to know how to be okay with the fact that one day I just wouldn’t be here.
In this book, Bill Moyers asks Joseph Campbell if he is afraid of aging, or how he views getting old. And Joseph Campbell goes into this beautiful explanation of how the body is, at first, something we are very connected with, and as we age and it loses some of its functioning, we find a stronger connection with our spirits, we become more conected with our consciousness and our soul. And when we die, our consciousness, which is what we really are anyway, just rejoins the consciousness of the universe, and that’s how life is. In fact, birth is one of the most difficult times in life because it is the beginning of when we are forced to reconnect with something outside of what is just consciouness.
This explanation, this awesome description of life and aging has helped me get over the concept of forever. It’s helped me to understand that when we die, or as we live, we are working on the eventual rejoining with what is natural. Life is part of our soul’s process of growth and it is a series of adventures and challenges and learning and things like that. But in the end, life is what it is, and it is not all we are.
Now everytime I start to worry, to feel sad, whatever..I think consciousness meets consciousness and everything feels better again. It’s like I’ve had this rebirth, this beautiful understanding of how much more we are than what we think we are, and I’m only on page 84 of “The Power of Myth!”
I feel so different. Last night I had my first real self-meditative experience. It was short (only 10 minutes) but wild, and I was totally there and totally connected.
Now, on a funny and not having anything to do with anything note - Yesterday, when I went to the blood clot doctor I was wearing a shirt that read “A is for Anal” and while I thought I could get away with the explanation that I am anal (as in anal retentive) I don’t think most people were buying it. But my very nice doctor, he didn’t have a clue and eventually he blurts out “So, who is anal (a-nail)?”
Like I said, he didn’t have a clue. I’m only beginning to realize, in some ways, neither do I.