Now, before any of you think I’ve gone all Christian and have taken up preaching from the rooftops let me explain what I mean.
A strange thing has been happening the last few days and I’m sure my baby son, Isaac has something to do with it. I had reached what would seem to be a crisis point on a personal issue I’ve been dealing with for some time. My ‘shadow’ seemed to be getting the better of me and I felt increasingly under its spell, resulting in stress and compulsive behaviours. What with lack of sleep and all the added responsibilities of being a protective parent it seemed as if some of my old issues were resurfacing. The ‘stress’ of being a dad was triggering other, old stress patterns in my psyche. My shadow-self was taking over.
But rather than fight I simply accepted my shadow, forgave it, thanked it for trying to protect me in the best way it knew how and got on with my day. I felt compelled to wear my caduceus (a present an ex girlfriend had bought me several years ago), knowing that it is a symbol of healing. And things started to change. As the day wore on I felt lighter, more connected to others, more empathic. I even smiled more!
And the feeling has continued. As I walked through town, pushing Isaac in his buggy I had a feeling of what can only be described as love for everyone and everything. I smiled and nodded at strangers. Most smiled back. I appreciated and marvelled at the invention of pavements, roads, buildings, streetlamps, traffic lights and the cars waiting at red. Even the music coming from the ones with their windows down (Gary boys’ music) was appreciated as God-given. (Previously, as like many people I’m sure, this was something I detested - numbskulls imposing their mindless racket on us, as if we wanted to hear it. But now I was fully accepting and even appreciative of it). Everything has its place.
Of course, when I speak of God I’m referring not to some bearded guy who sits on a cloud but rather some kind of natural order of things or ‘cosmic consciousness’. Some would call it Christ Consciousness. I don’t really know what to call it. Perhaps this is what being ‘born again’ is all about?
Whatever it is, I feel different. I passed people and wondered if they knew God was inside them. I silently wished them a good day. I heard teenagers swearing at each other in the park and wished for them to learn whatever lesson they were meant to be learning at that moment. I passed a girl who many would deem far too young to be a mother and wished for her to not only cope well but enjoy motherhood. I passed market traders and wished for them a day of abundance.
In a conversation with a friend who agreed with Buddha that ‘life is suffering’ I told her that I am feeling only joy. Anyone would say life is suffering when living on a grain of rice a day! I think what Buddha meant was that life inevitably involves suffering and that the idea of reincarnation and having to come back and do it all over again certainly seems like suffering. But how do we measure our joy without pain? What do we gauge it by? How do we know it is joy unless we have some knowledge of its opposite?
I shared with her the pain I experienced at the ending of a relationship and how tears had turned to laughter when I realised that these feelings of loss were the very same feelings that had been experienced by all the greatest novelists and songwriters who ever lived. Little old me now knew precisely what these ‘greats’ had experienced. I felt privileged to experience suffering. Again, everything has its place.
I see joy every time I look into Isaac’s eyes and he smiles back at me. He laughs quite a lot. It’s breaking my shield of cynicism. (I guess cynicism is par for the course at 42 but it seems to be softening). Last night I put him to bed and watched him fight sleep for a few minutes. I sat down beside his cot and he tossed and turned and kicked his legs about before eventually closing his eyes. His right arm was stuck up in the air, catatonically, before slowly coming down to rest as he drifted into sleep. And it struck me there and then that we would be together until the end. I was present when he came into this world. And, in all likelihood, he’ll be the one holding my hand when we say our final goodbyes at my death.
Hopefully that will be a while off yet. I’ve got lots I want to do. But with the total acceptance that I am feeling right now I could leave this earth tomorrow. I am ready to die.
Perhaps this is something we are all secretly hoping for? To overcome our fears of death and be ready for the moment when it comes. Most people, especially in the West never even talk about it. Like sex, it’s another of the great taboos. Maybe my own freedom from this fear has been responsible for this emerging ‘Christ Consciousness’, enabling me to appreciate life - and everything in it – much more so than ever before.
Of course, on one level I’m half expecting Mr Grumpy to return and moan at the Sunday drivers, the incorrect weather forecasts, the price of petrol (the list is endless so I'll stop there!) And then I’ll think of Isaac. And I will be aware that within every one of us is the seed of Christ Consciousness that grows through the stages of tolerance, acceptance, forgiveness, appreciation and love for everything in life, the joy and the suffering.
