The previous posting ended with the words: “How stupid, to panic about one’s trash. Yet, these are things that are important when one is not fully conscious of one’s life.”
The important word here is “fully”.
I was not unconscious by any means. But when I truly accepted my situation, an emotional consciousness collided with a body awareness on a cellular level. I was floating in new psychic territory. As I transitioned from illness to the promise of a second chance at life, this sensitivity deepened, broadened.
Friends ask how my life view has changed since my experience. As often as I hear that question, I still pause before answering, checking to make sure I am not on auto pilot, and that I still believe what I am about to say.
“Like you, I have known for some time how fragile and brief life can be. But after circling the edge of my mortality for a year, my sense of life has become much more visceral. And with new lungs, my sense has become transcendent. I always knew that life could end at any moment. Now I feel it, celebrate it. As strange as it may sound I don’t think I want life to be any less fragile and brief than it is. It’s what makes it so special.”
Friends often want to know if I have any profound revelations to share? I think it is their way of asking if my experience left me mythologically magnetized, attracted to a particular religious perspective. “No religion, no answers,” I assure them. “Instead, I embrace the mystery. It is our friend. We wouldn’t want to know all the answers. Then what would we do?”
Then I start gesticulating, pointing to something in front of me that is invisible, but which I sculpt so convincingly, that it seems to take shape in the clear air before us.
“It is as though I can reach out and press my hand against an invisible yet tactile dimension, like pushing against a cellophane membrane that is everywhere. I can’t see it, but it pushes back. One day I will press against it and I will break through it. At that point I will find myself sliding into my new home somewhere beyond what we can see. Part of me can’t wait. Another part of will resist with every fiber of my being. It’s the tension that every good story needs.”