Drifting in the deep.

I often wonder about the difference between who we are, and what we feel we can share with other people. There are so many people that pass through our life on a regular basis, and get one frequency in the band of our entire person. They know us in a singular way, barely scratching the surface, sure that they know us better than they really do. There are those times we step up into a context, and become the person we need to be to make things happen. And then there are the times when the mask is off, we kick up our feet, and just be. I love these moments, and they are even more rich when they are shared with another.

The other day I thought about the people in my life, and how much of me I can connect to each of them. I also thought about the parts of me that go unspoken, and what it is that keeps my tongue silent. And of course, as is the way of meandering thoughts, mine segued into other places. Logic and details blurred, and I wandered into yet another waking dream. I have them frequently, but I tend not to voice them - never quite the right time or place to do so.

I thought about my duality. On the surface my identity was clear: a chronology of events, accomplishments, posessions, memberships and plans for the future. The facts were dots with seemingly obvious connections, simultaneously my trophies and my baggage, my definitions and my limits. But beneath it, in that space where I occasionally go to bask in an imagined amnesia, free of history and context, where I am nothing but an energy that drives the Now, the facts give way to a different vision:

I found myself in a deeply familiar place, drifting aimlessly, as if submersed in an ocean of darkness -not dark in a negative way, but dark in an intimate way. This was a space I could thrive in. This was Home.

Before me was an irregular orb of swirling colours. I moved beneath its surface, drifting slowly inwards, passing through layer after layer of unnecessary complexity, always moving towards the centre, seeking that place of simplicity, strength, and the faint glimmering of things not yet discovered.

From the darkness, the faces of my closest friends arose. Each face shifted momentarily into focus, slowly replaced by the next. Their energy became the focal point. I could feel the places within me that they connected to, but even more strongly, I could feel where they didn’t, the place at the centre of it all.

In this place was a deep silence, full of thoughts and feelings unvoiced. In this place lurked some of my most profound experiences and my most meaningful moments. In this place was peace - and also a deep loneliness - but more than anything, this place felt like Home. And I wanted nothing more than to see this place from someone else’s eyes.

Fast forward to a later date. Remembrance of that vision caused me to wonder at the 'cores' of other people. Is there a space within each person that, for one reason or another, doesn't quite connect with other people? Is there something that we all have in common, cradled deep within? Do we have the right words to communicate the ideas we find in there? Are there people who don't need that protected place, where what you see, is what you get? Are there people in my life who are like this?

A while ago I stood at a listening station at the now defunct Virgin Megastore. I don't remember what song I was listening to, but I do remember being filled with a profound and unexplainable euphoria, as I often am while listening to music. As if for a moment, I was able to see the life I seem to so often blindly stumble through, from a different more enlightened perspective.

In my imagination, I envisioned life as a snowflake; to see just a tiny part of it up close would seem so chaotic and jumbled, but to see it in its entirety was to witness an emergent pattern of beauty, a secret and unguessable product from the union of hydrogen and oxygen - and to think of a sky full of these small wonders! In that moment, I believed more than ever that the 'Big Picture' was full of untapped power, undiscovered beauty and moments of secret importance that even my wildest dreams were yet unable to fathom.

Standing there at the music kiosk, with an impromptu soundtrack of my life rolling in the background, I looked around through blurry eyes, and thought about who I was going to share this important moment with. Surely someone else would appreciate this thought. But as the faces flashed in my mind, and the imaginary conversations began, each time the words were lacking: "The other day I was thinking...there was...this thought...about something." or "I felt this...thing...it was...indescribable."

And in that moment, I felt that core within me swell, and get wrapped within yet another layer. I felt as if I grew taller, and my shadow became longer. I found myself in another one of those moments where I became something more, but was able to explain it even less. And so to you, dear blog, I share this memory.

Here's to the day that the script goes differently, perhaps something a bit like this:

Me: "So the other day, I had this incredible thought..."
Not Me: "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean."
Me: "Really? But I also felt..."
Not Me: "Yeah, I've felt that too."
Me: [Silence.]
Not Me: [Silence.]
Me: [I see the look in your eyes, and I know with certainty, that you know exactly what I'm talking about.]

Here's to that day.