This Sense

  I can never adequately predict what position is most comfortable for me to fall asleep in.  Some people take on the exact same pose every night and slip off into their slumbers; I am not one of those people. I try out different angles and positions so happen to fall asleep while moving from one to another.  I happen to be on my tummy with my arms under my pillow and above my head.  I could smell the faint aroma of my antiperspirant; I know, eww.

  But here’s the thing. The faint aroma reminded me of the night I spent in a hotel decades ago, waiting to report to Army Basic Training.  I clearly remember laying in a similar position in a strange bed feeling anxious with being in an unfamiliar place; facing an uncharted future.  I joined the Army because my wife at the time was pregnant, and we didn’t have health insurance; I joined the Army because my two man band just broke up and I had zero prospects in Eugene, Oregon; I joined the Army because I couldn’t think of any way to rescue my family; more to the point, myself, from the predicament I got us into; I didn’t plan ahead; I was willing to die to everything I thought I was.  My dreams were shattered and my woman looked at me with poorly veiled contempt that only shrivels love to make the stoutest heart run far away for cover; I ran away to the Army for the next three decades. 

  They say that of all our memories, the sense of smell last longest.  Then, just as well, that memory serves as the threshold to other memories that tag along for the recall.  That’s how the aroma of cook outs can invoke pleasant memories from childhood; probably also why Burger King makes it a point to blow its grill smoke into the surrounding area; enticing people to come eat their product.  As my mind wandered on my desperate life; enough to leap into something totally foreign and ill defined I remember something else about dying to what I thought was the order of my universe.  It was written by a new age thinker who, for awhile, captured my attention by speaking on a point of view totally alien to my understanding.  His name is Ekert Tolle, and this passage from his book is Stillness Speaks took me by surprise.

“   ...Most people feel that their identity, their sense of self, is something incredibly precious that they don't want to lose.  That is why they have such fear of death.

   It seems unimaginable and frightening that the "I" could cease to exist.  But you confuse that precious "I" with your name and form and a story associated with it.  That the "I" is no more than a temporary formation in the field of consciousness.

   As long as that form identity is all you know, you are not aware that this preciousness is your own essence, your innermost sense of I Am, which is consciousness itself.  It is the eternal in you - and that's the only thing you cannot lose.

   Whenever any kind of deep loss occurs in your life - such as a loss of possessions, your home, a close relationship; or loss of your reputation, job, or physical abilities - something inside you dies.  You feel diminished in your sense of who you are.  There may also be a certain disorientation.  "Without this…who am I?"

   When a form that you had unconsciously identified with as part of yourself leaves you or dissolves, that can be extremely painful.  It leaves a hole, so to speak, in the fabric of your existence.

   When this happens, don't deny or ignore the pain or the sadness that you feel.  Accept that it is there.  Beware of your mind's tendency to construct a story around that loss in which you are assigned the role of victim.  Fear, anger, resentment, or self-pity are the emotions that go with that role.  Then become aware of what lies behind those emotions as well as behind the mind-made story:  That hole, that empty space.  Can you face and accept that strange sense of emptiness?  If you do, you may find that it is no longer a fearful place.  You may be surprised to find peace emanating from it.

   Whenever death occurs, whenever a life form dissolves, God, the formless and unmanifested, shines through the opening left by the dissolving form.  That is why the most sacred thing in life is death.  That is why the peace of God can come to you through the contemplation and acceptance of death.”

  My intent of including this in my post today was not to address the character of God or how he is conceived by me, or even you for that matter.  The over arching facet for me is my observation into the manner of practice I use for defining my successes or failures.  That, and how common those approaches seem to be shared with my fellow human beings.  From there, each of us can examine what objects our understanding are or are not suited to deal with.  When, of course, we’re willing to explore that part of our life.