During a zoom call with my friend Maria yesterday, we both realized that a missing ingredient in our intentions for the future was belief that what we wanted to happen could happen. We hadn’t yet chosen to believe, so we resolved to do so.
Sounds straightforward, right?
But only minutes after our conversation ended, as I sat quietly considering my own doubts and beliefs—my sense of what is and isn’t possible for me—I found myself gasping and sobbing as a flood of energy and comprehension filled and burst my startled heart.
This wasn’t a heart opening. This was a heart explosion, brought on by some fiercely muscular and tender thing, as if a dragon inside me had woken up and breathed holy fire in all directions.
It was a transient state, and despite the drama, a familiar one. Every so often, this dragon wakes and takes over my heart to remind me of what we can be or already are. What I perceive during these experiences is so big, so rich, so vast, and so poignant; awe/joy/sorrow/gratitude/love and a sense of magic come together, bowl me over, toss me around, and then retreat. I’m left awestruck and breathless, feeling almost too connected to the mystery and power of All That Is.
So I cry hard for a while—the kind of waterfall crying that gives way to lightness (go, endorphins!) after soaking a heap of tissues. Then I settle back into normal humanness and the blindered density of 3-D life, until the next time.
To readers whose medical or psychiatric Spidey Senses might be buzzing: I’m not talking about seizures, psychotic or manic episodes, or the like. These are glimpses into reality, not breaks from it.
Are they sensitivities or visitations? Maybe both. The fact that I can experience them without losing touch with reality means they’re part of my way of being human—a part I wish everyone could share. The currents of love and empathy they carry are HUGE.
Maybe this comparison will help:
Have you ever felt the shock of a soul gaze? If you look into another’s eyes and silently hold that look past the edge of decorum, past the unsettling sense of exposure, past wondering whether it’s okay to continue, and on to the point of pure intimacy, the combination of seeing and connecting becomes so powerful, it’s nearly painful. At that point I know I’m seeing the Divine. Knowing the gaze is revealing my own soul just as fully to the other person and feeling how thirsty I am for such connections both reassures and unsettles me. It seems to cut straight to the core of everything. And I do mean Everything.
But unlike a soul gaze, my “waking dragon” episodes have no other human witness. And there’s one other crucial difference.
Yes, this latest surge deposited me back in my normal so-called reality, but something had changed. I’ve learned to interpret each such episode as a Las Vegas-sized neon sign that whatever I was pondering just before the surge holds a key, a code, a catalyst—something important to my evolution, something that needed a raw blast of awe and life force to knock it free and get it moving.
This time, what I’d just been pondering was how to believe that the future I dream of is possible.
Message received and acknowledged. I choose to believe.