I’ve been strange lately. There’s some peaceful crumbling going on, a sense of skin cells falling off. I don’t see any danger but there’s huge mystery. “What’s happening to me? Where am I?” Sometimes I seem to be enshrouded in a fog. I reach into it and grope around for familiar shapes, often finding none. At times I feel in free fall, but with no worry about the landing. Or that I’m rubbing up against something unknown, something so very soft.
I suppose this sounds pathological but I trust that it’s not. There’s often a great feeling of space around me. At those times, there aren’t any landmarks that I recognize but somehow I feel at home. The solidness of “who Bruce is” is fading … expanding … and fading again.
Within my waveriness, there are sometimes losses of memory. I sat down on my yoga mat this morning, ready to do the exercises I’ve done for months. There are eleven of them, and for five minutes at least I couldn’t remember the first one. Yes, there was a little blip of fear but it was soon replaced in the unknowing by a little smile. Not remembering was not a problem.
For the last few days, I haven’t felt like writing a blog post, and so I haven’t … feeling at ease around the silence on the screen. A couple of weeks ago, I celebrated my 1000th post on WordPress but now the number seems meaningless. There will be writing when writing feels like emerging.
A woman I know and trust told me recently that I’m going through kenosis. Tonight I looked up a conversation on the internet on that very topic between Patricia Albere and Debbie delaCuesta. I made some notes and here they are. Some of them shine a light on my recent days, in which the experiences are so different from my past ones, and yet magically not problems.
Kenosis is self-emptying. The ways in which I’ve identified myself are merely constructs, things I’ve believed in, and they don’t define who I am.
Releasing the attachment to who you thought you were CF. “I’ll die if I’m not somebody”
You feel like you’re being erased and you can’t find a sense of identity
Uncharted, uncertain, ever-changing
Who I am is this kind, compassionate person [or maybe I’m far more vast than that]
Being less attached to the higher … spiritual experiences come and go
Too solid, too much of a something
Achievement and growth lose meaning
Letting things melt away
I get taken into things where I have no idea what’s going on
When people are in transition, it may be transformation and not pathology
Releasing attachment to the self that we’ve earnestly built
Oh, I’m not any of those things? There’s something deeper and vaster that has nothing to do with any of what I’ve done, any way I’ve shined up my personality?
I wonder if most of you are sitting there saying “What gobbledygook! This guy’s crazy. Being a better me is what’s important.” If so, fair enough. But there’s something happening here.