When I was 32 I got new eyes. Not literal eyes. But for the first time in forever I saw the world clearly, and because of that everything felt different. Everything was different. But until I got new eyes I didn’t know I needed them. I was so busy not trying to need them. Trying to make everything be OK and not hurt so much and make sense and just be OK. And it wasn’t. And I didn’t know how much new eyes would help.
When I got new eyes my life started. And it was not a shit life before 32. It was not a particularly hard or horrible life. It’s just that even though I did many, many things in that life I was not really alive. Not totally. And even then, when I woke up, it did not mean that everything was better or fixed or suddenly perfect. But I saw the truth of it, and I realised that it was within my control to feel the way I wanted to feel and create the life I wanted to create. And not only was it possible, but finally it was happening. I could not have predicted what would happen next or after that or all the things I’d learn and love and hate about being awake (because being awake hurts more – it’s more of everything, including both ends of the spectrum of joy and pain). I wouldn’t know there would be moments I’d wish I could unremember all that I’d learnt and throw the responsibility of my life to the wolves and just not go for more. And then I’d remember that more was what I’d always wanted. And to be more is not the easy road. And it’s OK if you choose it. And it’s OK if you don’t. It’s all up to you. But I will promise you that if you have it, the desire for more, it will never go away.
Of course it’s a long story. With me there’s always a long story. But I don’t think just with me. I think with most of us, the story can be so long and convoluted, that even we forgot where it began and what it true and real and what is an embellishment.
When I was 32 I did a 3-day seminar that gave me new eyes. It was the start of everything that came next for me, and everything that is now.
I’m motivated by pain. Likes lots of humans I think. I like pleasure. I’m into it, but it isn’t the thing that drives me to do stuff I’m scared off. Pain has always done that. And I had to be in a lot of pain to move, because I’m so smart and independent and strong, I was sure that I could manage it ON MY OWN. That I should be able to manage on my own. That unless I could do that I would never be worth anything. When the truth? The truth that has crept up on me is that I have never been alone, but before I could not feel or hear or see the way I was connected to everything, and it felt alone. So alone.
The reason I did that seminar was because my friends told me to. They said it was amazing. I didn’t do it though. To have some amazing in my life? Well that would cool, but probably OK for those really messed up people who didn’t have great lives. I was (am, does it ever end?) pretty judgemental too, even though I tried to soften it. I was not going to be one of those people who needed one of those seminars to change my life. My life was OK and I was OK and if it just stopped being so fucked up, there’s be no need to talk about it anymore.
But then one day, in the face of the end of my relationship to my second daughter’s father (and oh, that woman with two kids to two different Dads) and after a late term miscarriage and in the guts of grief someone who loved me told me to go. She told me again. She’d told me before. And in a moment I knew I had to do something, because the grief was eating me alive and I was not even alive at all. And although I thought I was grieving the life with him and the baby who didn’t come I was really grieving me. That woman I couldn’t remember at all. Going through the motions, high accomplished and successful and generous of spirit and fun and seemingly completely alive, who was not alive at all.
I learnt some stuff that weekend that made me super angry, I learnt some stuff that confronted who I thought I was. I found hope. I saw people love each other alive. And then they loved me alive. And somehow, I knew that one day that was what I was going to do.
I have told the story so many times that when I walked out after the third day the world was bright and sharp and clear, like someone with new glasses. Or new eyes.
And that was when I got new eyes. And did it make my life perfect? Did it mean I never found myself lost again? Was it the answer to everything?
No. No it didn’t. No it wasn’t. It wasn’t any of those things.
It was the start.
And then once I started I could not stop. Even when I wanted to. Even when I was hurt and angry and challenged beyond what I thought was possible. Those people loved me alive, and they have loved me since, and I them. And now I work for them, doing that thing for people that they did for me. And while it exists I will not stop doing it because it was there that I found magic. I found me. And I didn’t know I was lost.
One day, in pain or because someone who loves you tells you it’s amazing, it’s going to be your time. The opportunity will momentarily waver in front of you and you will get to choose. I made a choice sometime over that weekend that I had to choose to save my own life. And I did. But not on my own. It’s never on your own. So if you are ready, you’ll see it. And that will be the start. Of everything that comes next. With new eyes.
Read more about it here: Ignite Awakening