Soft Edges

There are times when we exist in the world differently, sometimes for a moment, or a day or more. You know what I mean, where it feels as if a sense of grace has descended and everything feels better, softer, even peaceful.

I have been what I can only describe as “porous” recently. I seem to be affected by what I hear or see or think in a heightened manner and today heightened might not be big enough of a word. Nothing seems separate, even the air permeates my skin.

I seem to be letting the world in, where the boundaries between “me” and the rest of the world are melting. I sense, I feel, I experience my surroundings differently.  In this experience, I am losing touch with all the lists of things to do, the obligations, the societal rules, and most importantly, time. Even as it is a gentle experience of myself and the world, it is as if my sense of separation, my need to defend my existence, and any expectations are reduced to breathing alone. Being a witness seems to be the only call.

The busyness of the world has no hold on me.

I have been thinking relentlessly about how I am in this world, watching my reactions to every stimuli, from food to angry people to friends to the news to the weather, to anything really. At least for now, my ability to take things in seems to be accelerating. I think of something that is important to me and the thoughts take root. Good friends suggest ways to think about an issue and I seem to digest and discern and then attach to what I value about their thoughts.

The word “smooth” keeps coming to mind as the best way to describe this feeling. It is as if the lining of my lungs has been flattened to allow the air to pass easier. My arteries and veins have dilated to lower the pressures of blood flow. The balls of my feet almost commune with the ground as I stride. Drinking water is full of new sensations.

This is all new to me. Previous encounters with this state were fleeting, as if an invitation to engage with the world in a different way. I realize that it is incumbent on me to engage with people and situations as if I am a witness, that this is my calling and yet I do not know how to fulfill the role. I made a decision last year that I was no longer able to continue to be at war with time. Subsequent to this, all I knew was that I needed time. Hence the road trip and all that followed.

It has become clear to me in recent days that witnessing is an activity and not some idle state. I have been waiting for some direction to show up for me, maybe spirit will show the way. But she is subtle, and I may have been missing some clues. Time will tell, literally.

I sense that I am able to have this state of grace largely because I have not been resisting the guide of Spirit. As I have made the time to listen I have found a deeply informative silence, a wisdom arises like mist from a pond. It is the stillness that makes it possible.


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