About 12 years ago (or thereabouts), I was beginning to explore things like reincarnation, the nature of the soul, etc. You know, light stuff. : ) I was starting to learn about what we (humans) are, and what we aren't, mainly from books. It was all very fuzzy, but I was starting to form some ideas. Naturally, I was curious about myself.
I was in my mid twenties when this happened, and I thought I had a pretty good idea of who I was. The "what" part I was still trying to figure out. Seeing myself - like THAT- in the mirror made it pretty clear that "I" was a hell of a lot more than my mind could comprehend.
At that point in my life, I thought I knew what I wanted, and I was on track to achieving it. As time went on, I found my priorities shifting. My old goals didn't feel so important any more. My life was slowly moving in a different direction. A few years after that revelation in the mirror, I found myself shifting into an entirely different career path. I made the change rather quickly, impulsively, and although I never second-guessed my decision, there was an adjustment period. Stepping into this new role meant the death of a part of me. My old career path was such a part of my identity, that for a while, in grad school, I didn't feel like I belonged. I found my inner voice asking, "what am I doing here? I don't belong here!" And yet, part of me knew that I did belong here. I picked up new skills with ease and enthusiasm. I discovered that I was good at this new job... that it felt natural. My identity was changing. A lot.
In fact, I realized later, it was eroding. As I became more and more at home in my new role, I felt more of a void where my old passions had been. If I'm not a horse trainer, a groom, a rider anymore, than what am I? I didn't feel like an acupuncturist yet, and certainly not a 'healer'! There were a lot of changes happening in my personal life as well. I was in limbo. I felt like I didn't have any solid ground under my feet. I didn't know who I was any more.
This, as one of my favorite teachers told me, was actually a good thing. It was uncomfortable as hell, often alienating and very scary, but it meant that space was being created. There was a vacuum, and it would be filled. I think the part that scared me was that I had no idea what would fill the vacuum. I was starting to learn that I was no longer in control, and that quite possibly, I never was. I was learning to surrender. This went on for a few years, waxing and waning in intensity. I found that if I followed my intuition, let myself be guided by curiosity and inspiration, I experienced amazing things. Synchronicities appeared. My world view, as well as my self image, was changing and expanding rapidly. And I was starting to enjoy it. As I processed what was happening and worked through things as they arose, the pain and fear and feelings of loss started to be replaced by amazement, humility, and wonder.
I learned that what I thought was "me" was really just a construct. My ego, bless her, had assembled a wonderfully layered facade. It felt solid; it felt real. In a way, it was - but it was obscuring the depth that I had seen in those eyes - my eyes - in the mirror. That ego construct was, shall we say, the tip of the iceberg. I was starting to see below the surface. I even started to make small plunges into the depths of my being, and came back unscathed. At times I feel like I live in two worlds, but more and more they are converging. I have been taught that 'I' am truly part of the One, part of God, part of the Universe; a drop that merges into the ocean. But now, with increasing frequency, I feel it. I know it. Some of the greatest moments of joy I have ever felt are those moments when I let myself merge with all that is, and feel connected to everything. It feels like the boundaries of 'me' dissolve. It's not scary any more; it's beautiful.
I like what I see in the mirror.
