When I told the doctors who were about to perform surgery on me that I was sensitive, and to please use either less or weaker pain-killers afterwards, they didn’t believe me.
As a result, I had an intravenous nightmare ride for two days after the surgery until I made a big enough fuss that they took me off. Pain? Who cares about pain when you feel like your own mind is slipping you into the grossest, unimaginable insanity?!?
Even after they had stopped administering the drug, the nightmares persisted when I tried to sleep. But blessedly, I could open my eyes to the blank white walls of the hospital and get reprieve – if I remembered. There were times I was just too tired to stay lucid enough to remember to be on guard, and sank deeper asleep, and deeper within the horrors. They made any scary movie seem like a walk in the park.
What made this experience one of the most important in my entire life was that I finally realized that if I could open my eyes to the outside, I could also open my awareness to the divine light within myself.
I saw that I had wandered far away from it, and it seemed like nothing more than the tiniest spark on the other side of a wide, prickly desert. But it was there! All was not lost!
The more I hauled on it, the more I asked it to guard over me, the more I wrapped myself in it, the more sane I felt, and the more the livid, neon, nauseous crackling colors, ghouls and apparitions from the drugs receded, and the more of a grip I felt I had on my own life force.
I ask myself, now: how do we live without a conscious daily reconnection to this inner spark? How do we function? My first act upon awakening in the morning has become remembering what is first and foremost – that amazing life energy that anchors and sustains me in this bag of skin in which I walk around.
It seems to me that how a person reconnects doesn’t matter – whether through faith, belief, religion, discipline – what matters is that the connection IS recalled and re-honored each day, else the richness, the blessing, and the sheer miracle of our even being able to take a single breath is lost under the intensity of the daily routine.
I picture the spot an inch below my belly button, and draw an imaginary line from that straight through my body to my back. At the midpoint sits a brilliant star of light – sometimes called the Dan Tien. Of course we need to anchor the mind, heart and will, but if there’s no starting point, how do we get our bearings? When I “see” that light, I ask it to swell and fill me, and remind me of itself all day. Such sweetness.
How do you reconnect? I invite you to do it daily, if you do not do so now!
Angela Treat Lyon