The Fullness Of All That I Am
So much of my life’s energy has been spent trying to fragment and fracture myself. The attempt of the mind to keep me from my “bigness” has been chronic from about age 5. Don’t be too visible or too loud or too demanding. Don’t have emotions that are too powerful or too strong. Don’t express yourself too grandly or too effusively. Don’t be unrestrained or enthusiastic. I learned very early on, from both my family and the world at large, that to be too much of myself was dangerous. It was a risk to be bold and audacious. I was too weird, or too talented, or too expressive. I was too tall and my hair was too red and my mannerisms were often too feminine.
My family wasn’t wealthy, but we had what we needed and much of what we wanted. I had a checking account starting at about the age of 12. The attempt of my parents to instill financial responsibility in me was an exercise in extreme discomfort. I remember at the age of 12, standing in line at the local Woolworth’s checkout where I went to buy my candy and 45 records of the latest music. When it came time for me to make my purchases, I pulled out my checkbook. Much to the surprise and judgement of the cashier and other people waiting in line. In truth, it probably wasn’t as dramatic as the mind recalls it. However, at the time, I felt like an alien. Who is THIS kid with a fancy checkbook at age 12? Why does he have this? Who does he think he is? I remember wanting to curl up into a ball and just disappear. I didn’t want that kind of attention, I just wanted to blend in and disappear into the landscape.
The sense of self that’s been with me for as long as I can remember is that I was born to stand out. I spent the greater part of my childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood trying like hell to keep myself small, palatable, and acceptable to “them.”
I was desperate to appease my family, society, peer groups, and whomever else’s approval I convinced myself was necessary for my well-being.
Essentially my whole life has been spent trying to please some phantom person or group of people that have never really existed. Given the intensity of my energy field and persona even on a low key day, it’s nearly impossible for me not to make waves when I enter a room. I am over 6 feet tall and have a presence that is naturally commanding. Currently, I sport a clean shaven head and multiple tattoos. In my adolescence, I had beautiful red hair and wore the uniform of the “goth”. Layers of black clothes, excessive jewelry, and pointy toed shoes with 6 skull buckles on each foot. In Wyoming in the mid 80s, this was not the norm. I also was often center stage in front of an audience singing, dancing and performing in some way. It was, and has been, nearly impossible for me to be invisible. So, in the absence of being able to blend in with the wallpaper, the mind has strategized keeping the Fullness of Self fragmented and tempered by numbness, distraction, and avoidance.
This recipe was a valiant effort to keep me safe. Visibility - the thing that was impossible for me to avoid - became synonymous with danger. Being seen was a huge risk. If my physical appearance was impossible to disguise, then at least the mind could keep my energy field dispersed enough to keep from making too many waves. Alas, the efforts have been mostly futile. The best the mind has been able to do is keep me distracted enough by thoughts, habits, patterns, beliefs, and behaviors. If I couldn’t be camouflaged, then I could be minimized to the degree that I became a non-threat. If the mind could keep me unfocused and insecure, then I might just be able to survive long enough to make it to my deathbed.
To thrive was anathema to my safety. At least that’s what the mind thought. So, whenever the energy was too big or too grand, whenever real and sustainable success came to my door, the mind would throw a spanner in the works. Find something, or someone to diffuse, distract, and dilute. Find a way to convince me to fragment myself. Convince me to pull back and decide that I wasn’t capable of success or that it wasn’t worth the effort. Keep me entranced by some hedonistic trinket or bright shiny object that promised temporary satisfaction or pleasure and I would be fine. Drugs, drink, men, and material gain were usually the means by which this succeeded. Digital distraction such as video games, my phone, or mindless entertainment were also employed as methods of keeping my focus minimized.
However, the one thing that the mind hasn’t been able to control is the inevitable evolution of my consciousness. The innate curiosity of this part of me that is possessed by an insatiable desire to understand has eventually overridden even the most potent of material indulgences. The mind’s need for novel and fresh distractions has ultimately been its Achilles heel. The very impulse that has kept it always on the hunt for new ways to partition and dilute the life force flow that moves through me has resulted in the discovery of layers of Self that are immune to even the mind’s best efforts.
Once I had a taste of the purity of my divinity, all bets were off. To be fully connected and in creative flow with Self and Spirit put even the most potent of distractions to shame. Once I'd stared at the face of God, not even Lucifer himself could’ve concocted a drug powerful enough to eclipse the experience.
Ironically, it was often through these portals of distraction, - drugs, sex, and entertainment - that I was able to access these states of altered consciousness. As if almost by accident, there have been moments of stumbling into a layer of creation that has forever altered my perception of reality. Even a fraction of a second in the presence of unadulterated, creative life force suddenly threw everything else into stark contrast. On the other side of an actual ecstatic experience the trinkets of the mind became menial and uninteresting. Like a cheap knockoff. A substandard confection that couldn’t begin to compare with manna from heaven.
Recently, I have begun to feel a sense of this bigness again. It’s what I refer to as “The Fullness Of All That I Am.” It’s an experience that has emerged in brief moments throughout my life. A glimpse of something previously hidden behind a curtain. These moments of tapping into this field of energy have often felt like witnessing the entirety of creation instantaneously. They have mostly been impossibly short and maddeningly ephemeral. Like waking from an intensely vivid dream that for a split second hangs in my awareness, but just as quickly begins to fade. An almost painfully beautiful experience that is too perfect to sustain for more than a flash because it would ruin me for anything else. Eventually, the mind would always manage to explain these moments away and I would return to the mundane world of material distraction.
Yet, even in the face of the mind’s determination to hypnotize me back into smallness, after these moments, something was forever changed.
Over time, these otherworldly events accumulated deep within me. Like an artesian well slowly bubbling up to the surface creating a pool of pure, life giving water. As these moments began to add up over decades, this pool of water became deeper and more vast. Each time I would tap into it, I would go deeper and the experiences would last just a bit longer. Eventually, the pool became an ocean and it created an itch that couldn’t be scratched by the tin trinkets of the mind. Once I had a taste of the real deal, the imitation stuff could no longer compete.
Initially, I wasn’t able to consciously access this field of awareness. It would always come to me. Like a wanderer who occasionally showed up and for a moment, would remind me of someone I used to be. Eventually, through determination and deep focus, I was able to return myself to a state of being that would grant me access to that inner plane. Even then, the moments were fleeting and maddeningly elusive. Sometimes I would get there, but most often not.
Over the past few months, I have become aware of this energy more frequently. Still quiet and subtle, but more accessible than ever before. Always coming to me in moments of sustained stillness and presence. The more I have been able to focus my awareness in the moment, free from distractions, the stronger it has become. Up until recently, it always seemed to dance on the periphery of my view. Like something I would see in the corner of my eye. Whenever I would turn my head to face it directly, it would vanish just out of sight again. I began to realize that the more I connected with my center, the easier it was to perceive. I started to understand that when I am in a state of active relaxation, free from expectation, it effortlessly floats into view. Over the past few weeks, I have not only found myself more frequently able to consciously connect with the fullness of presence, but also to sustain it.
To simply be with myself without needing to fragment seems to be the key.
So much of our human experience is based upon work and effort and output. I think in many ways, we have forgotten the value and the power of simply being. This state of awareness that has become more and more consistent is actually quite familiar. It’s not so much about acquiring new knowledge or understanding as it is simply allowing myself to reside in my natural way of being. Spiritual work is so often focused on achieving something. Healing is powerful and necessary, but it can also become a distraction. If I am constantly focused on arriving at some future state, then I miss the moment. If I am always trying to ascend to some other level of awareness, then by default, I am vacating the present experience. I understand the importance of exploration. Seeking is a natural part of the human journey. Yet, what I am seeing more and more is that the thing I am looking for is already within me. It isn’t accessible through a mental state of effort, but rather by the relinquishment of “trying.” Stillness and centeredness more and more are my default mode of operation. These days I see that “trying” almost always requires me to abandon myself in some way. There’s a deeper layer of Self that is always connected to everything, so to strike out in search of anything places me outside of myself, which in turn becomes a chase. This layer of Self doesn’t chase. It can’t.
The center can’t vacate itself, otherwise it ceases to be the center.
Recently, I had a moment of realization while moving through my day. It was subtle, and had I been possessed by distraction I surely would have missed it. It was after a particularly potent group gathering. I was lying on my bed, witnessing the massive flow of energy that was coursing through my body that often accompanies group work. In that moment, it was like every cell and every layer of my being were simultaneously experiencing the same thing. I suddenly became aware of my mind moving into a state of restlessness. It was a deep discomfort at not being fragmented or fractured. In that moment, I could see that there was nothing impeding my connection to the Fullness Of All That I Am. There was no device in my hand, no screen in my face. I wasn’t in a state of consuming anything, I wasn’t in denial. I wasn’t chasing something or trying to escape anything. I simply was. In that moment what bubbled up was the truth that since about 5 years old, my mind has been fighting unification. My mind has been desperate to keep me from fully and consciously reuniting will All That I Am.
The irony here is that the Unified Self is inevitable. In fact, it is always present. It may be temporarily obfuscated by the chaos of the mind, but in the end it always emerges. Even if it doesn’t happen while one is alive within a human incarnation, it will happen once the death experience occurs. What I realized though is that I don’t have to wait to die to experience the resurrection of unification. I am eternally complete right here, right now. It is this completeness that allows the illusion of separation to occur in the first place. The only way any of us can endure the temporary individuation that human life requires is to be rooted into the Fullness of All. It is the sustaining battery fueled by life force energy that allows me to momentarily fracture and fragment myself.
All That I Am is eternally held within the field of All That Is. Everything I experience always happens within the unified field. It can be no other way.
On the other side of this realization was an immense wave of compassion for the mind. It is fighting a battle that it will always lose. The human mind dies when this body dies. So, why do I continue to allow it to fracture me into a million tiny pieces when I am eternally complete? The bigness of the life I envision is already here. It always has been. Patiently waiting for me to either accept the realization while in form, or die unto my wholeness. Either way, I can’t avoid it. I am powerful beyond measure whether I want to be or not. I am a master creator even when I don’t believe that I am. I can’t outrun myself. I am inevitable. So why waste my precious life trying to be anything other than that which I Eternally Am?
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