Hello?
I was sound asleep when the phone rang. I grabbed it, put it to my ear and said, "Hello."
"Hello." It was a man's voice, deep and resonant.
"Hello." I parroted the greeting. My own voice was flat and expressionless.
"Hello?" The man was confused. "It's Mike." He said.
"Mike." I parroted again, without recognition.
"Kate?" The voice said.
"Kate." I repeated. There was a pause. I began to try to make sense of it.
"Wait. I'm Kate." I finally said.
For about twenty seconds my mind had been completely blank. I wish I could adequately describe the feeling.
I can tell you what was missing. There was no internal dialog, no judgment or expectation. There was no awareness of physical discomfort, no tightness in my jaw or shoulders. There was no pressure or ringing in my ears.
It was like being on top of a mountain on a cloudless night. It was vast and clear. It was limitless.
It was probably seven years ago, but I remember and I think about it. I don't know what happened.
I don't know if I was in the middle of a really slow delta wave and my brain just took a while to catch up. Maybe I was astral-projecting in my sleep, and "the lights were on but I wasn't home." It might be what it's like to have amnesia.
A Buddhist might say it was a moment of satori or kensho--a moment of illuminating emptiness. Maybe it was.
I don't know what it was, but I know I'd like to have it back. If I had it back I wonder what I could do with it.
How would I live my life if, in every waking moment, there were no expectations, self-criticisms, or presupposed limitations? What would it be like if I saw myself only as I am, not as what I regret having been or not been? What if every person I spoke with was just a person, without label or imagined agenda?
What would it be like if we all had that?
"Hello." It was a man's voice, deep and resonant.
"Hello." I parroted the greeting. My own voice was flat and expressionless.
"Hello?" The man was confused. "It's Mike." He said.
"Mike." I parroted again, without recognition.
"Kate?" The voice said.
"Kate." I repeated. There was a pause. I began to try to make sense of it.
"Wait. I'm Kate." I finally said.
For about twenty seconds my mind had been completely blank. I wish I could adequately describe the feeling.
I can tell you what was missing. There was no internal dialog, no judgment or expectation. There was no awareness of physical discomfort, no tightness in my jaw or shoulders. There was no pressure or ringing in my ears.
It was like being on top of a mountain on a cloudless night. It was vast and clear. It was limitless.
It was probably seven years ago, but I remember and I think about it. I don't know what happened.
I don't know if I was in the middle of a really slow delta wave and my brain just took a while to catch up. Maybe I was astral-projecting in my sleep, and "the lights were on but I wasn't home." It might be what it's like to have amnesia.
A Buddhist might say it was a moment of satori or kensho--a moment of illuminating emptiness. Maybe it was.
I don't know what it was, but I know I'd like to have it back. If I had it back I wonder what I could do with it.
How would I live my life if, in every waking moment, there were no expectations, self-criticisms, or presupposed limitations? What would it be like if I saw myself only as I am, not as what I regret having been or not been? What if every person I spoke with was just a person, without label or imagined agenda?
What would it be like if we all had that?