In August of 2017 the Golden Light of Love flowed into my mind and, much to my surprise, with It came a romance novel that I felt compelled to write (A Good Woman). I cannot say that I “channeled” it, but it certainly seemed “given” to me. I was immersed in it everywhere I went and I was inspired to put ordinary situations or events that I encountered into it. It was baffling, but enjoyable, and I just went with it.
That book was followed by another novel (Towing the Moon, currently out to readers for feedback). When I wrote that one, the Golden Light had receded, and I was more settled into the writing process, but still often inspired.
After this, the life of the self (body, personality) with which this mind once identified radically shifted. A Holy Relationship had come and suddenly the life the self had lived became a former life. And this mind found itself in a new relationship with the self and the world. It feels it is the Author of this new life, the self an actor playing out a role on the “stage” of the world. As the Author, it feels it is watching a story unfold, but also understands it is the source of the story, sometimes feeling “I conjured this up!” However, it is also not separate from the action of the story. It is also a player in the play, the self a character when needed. To this mind, the Author is substantial and That to Which it returns when done playing a role. The actor is a momentary instrument, her character insubstantial and fleeting as the wind that just brushed against this body’s cheek.
In part of the story that has unfolded, there was in June of last year a day and a week that followed that Hannah and I refer to as “The Horrible Friday” and “The Horrible Week”. We parted ways that Friday morning (for me in the US) over several hours of messaging on Skype, and that afternoon, while I was hitting bottom and grieving, I had an unusual experience: A sudden happy lightening and the awareness that, “Yes! This is what is supposed to happen!” On the heels of this followed the awareness that I was finally “playing the part” I was supposed to.
I certainly didn’t trust this; it was too odd. I could not shake the feeling Hannah was going to be a part of my life, but I also could not see how it was going to happen. I thought she would be gone for many years, if ever to return. But I also couldn’t shake the uplift I got from that awareness and the sense that there was a larger story unfolding and somehow I was in touch with it.
I then also felt another strong movement within me: Save that day’s messaging on Skype. And then, later: Save all that I still had of our emails and other Skype messages and videos. This had nothing to do with anticipated nostalgia. I was not one to hold onto painful things. The character was beginning to be the “recorder”, a role which has continued. Ever since, I have kept a record of my experiences and processing through copious journalizing. (Some of this has resulted these articles). I am not certain why, but I speculate that perhaps one day the actor will write a book about all of this and need these to toggle memories.
I was initially suspicious of this new way of being and relating to the self and the world given how I’d been recently writing fiction! However, there was no resisting the movement of the self, not through me—because What moved it isn’t separate—but as me. Also, what I was feeling and seeing was actually unfolding. For example, I foresaw Hannah being back in a week, which I certainly didn’t trust…and then she was back. I felt I was living at a whole new, incomprehensible level of awareness. Since, I have been conscious of it to varying degrees until it finally returned the other day, clear, accepted, and not needing to be understood. And I did nothing to bring this about. Nor was there any insight that led to my acceptance. I just suddenly did. And as the Author I just watch this, because, it, too is part of the story.
Resistance to this new way showed up as judgment. I don’t know if I am done with that, given how recent this shift has been. I don’t tend to judge actions, but the characters feelings. Just as a method actor is not the part she plays but feels the emotions and reactions authentic to the character she’s playing, I, too, feel the part I’m playing in the moment. I feel emotions only a little deeper than I would, say, reading a book or watching a movie, but nowhere near like I did when I thought it was me. They quickly process out, unless I judge them. Like a method actor, I, too, must learn to not judge my part, but to play it with compassion for the action and feelings of the moment.
Experiencing, processing, shifting, acting—all are automatic now. I don’t have to “do” any of it. I am and I watch (which is also automatic) and, when necessary, act, react, feel, etc. While involved in the character I can be immersed in the story. But it isn’t long before I am again the Author observing the thoughts, feelings, action, reactions—and even the judgments and resistance. None of them are the Author, but the Author is the space in which they occur.
Because the echo of the ego still remains in this mind, I show up as radically inconsistent with others. One moment I am playing the part and discussing my feelings; the next I am the detached Author recognizing that’s not me and in total acceptance. Really, it is hardly fair to others that I am around them at this stage! But I am sure this will shift when I have wholly dropped the ego and the habit of identifying with the self (character). The consistently observing and accepting Author will be all that’s left to act through the self.
When I am not judging this new way of being, it is rather enjoyable. I feel nothing deeply, so it is easy to accept it is all passing and to be lighthearted. But this means that I also do not experience relationships as I once did. I did not realize until this experience that the depth of my relationships with others used to be proportionate to what I felt I needed from them and projected onto them. My relationships were all in my mind, but I didn’t realize it at the time. I thought both my needs and what I saw in others to fulfill them were real. So, just as I feel I am only playing a part, others feel only like characters in a story to me, too. While this release from significance is a relief and enjoyable, it is still sometimes disconcerting. I miss what I felt was my humanity and the ego tells me I’ve become shallow. But most of the time I simply enjoy the moment I’m in.
In the past weeks I wrote about recognizing the “little will” in me that opposes my Will. I recognized it’s all my will, seeming to oppose itself or not. That’s because I’m the Author and I write all the parts. It is just a story, not in theory, but in my experience.