Broken Lens

In a year forever imprinted on my mind, and more significantly, in my soul, I will always remember the year of the broken lens: the year that I now know to be my own ‘spiritual awakening’.

Just over a couple of years ago I was talking with an acquaintance who commented, ‘You always seem so… ‘ and then she paused. As she looked down, I heard the unspoken ‘together’ in her mind.

I wanted to say, in response, that while I had always been ‘together’ in the past, I was aware at that point in time, that my life as I knew it had begun to crumble. The lens through which I was accustomed to viewing all that went on in my life, was breaking.

Moments and steps along the way

All my life I’ve been aware of a spiritual dimension. It’s been something I’ve taken for granted. It was a powerful presence after my father’s death many years ago. And when my mother passed away a couple of years ago, it was a time of increased understanding of the power of presence, of the healing touches to the soul’s longing for understanding of what happens at the transition between worlds – the physical and the next world.

In the years before and between those events there were significant moments of heightened awareness, usually associated with a deep need for something beyond me to alleviate a sense of being very alone.

Love and warmth

I was a teen, attending university. One holiday, I chose to travel from the city to the coastal town of Albany, in Western Australia and stay with my grandmother. It was a rare visit, and one I recall for the significant experience I had there. My grandmother held a very strong conviction of God’s presence in her life. I knew this, as she often talked about God as if He was simply there, that He understood us and so on. Perhaps that is why I sought her out that holiday.

The city was a terrifyingly huge place in which I felt very lost and alone. Brought up in the central wheat-belt of WA, isolated on a farm, to be thrust into a lifestyle of living with a stranger as a landlady, no family and hundreds of students whom I did not know on campus, I was very frightened.

The comfort of a grandmother’s warmth and love would be and was reassuring. Yet, more profoundly on that holiday, when I asked God if He could just show me that He was real, and that I wasn’t alone, I recall the warmth of love that filled my small bedroom and the golden glow I sensed with it. I was held in that love, and it filled me with a reassurance I so badly needed at the time.

So why the significant shift barely 12 months ago?

Over the years, I lost sight of listening to my intuition. I struggled to understand what I had to do: how to live. I had never known ‘how to’ and used to ask God to guide me, and just leave it to the universe to do so. I’d step into my day and follow what arose, choosing the most comfortable path. Gradually, however, over the years, I slipped into uncertainty and couldn’t hear my inner voice, or whatever intuitive guidance was being offered. My life became unstuck. My lens broke into pieces and shattered itself far and wide.

I could state the circumstances at the time. Yet, to add any weight to one situation, event or person is not really the point. It is what happened when I crumbled. That was the most terrifying experience of my life.

I had reached out many times over asking others for insight. Some heard this as me asking for help. It was and it wasn’t! If they chose to help, fine, so long as it fitted my need. And that’s the thing. Insightful people knew instinctively that my journey was my own, and ‘help’ as it is often termed, is not what is needed or wanted.

What I wanted the most was insight on how to live my life. I got none until after the night that I will term, in words often quoted, ‘the dark night of the soul’.

What was significant about that night?

Years of losing sight of what my intuition was and living according to my own decisions left me exhausted. I forgot how to prioritize caring for myself, and always put others first. I knew no other way. In hindsight, my efforts to be selfless were in fact, often misled and selfish, though not always. Seen as a caring person, I thrived on doing for others.

Problems in personal life were thought about on an endless loop. Overthinking, always questioning what I did, believing I could do better, led to utter exhaustion.

I forgot to take care of my personal health, insofar as I became physically exhausted as well. Deficiencies in my mostly vegetarian diet led unwittingly to low iron counts and I became seriously depleted of energy. Confusion clouded my thoughts. I’ve learnt a lot since!

How do I convey the impact of that night?

It seems superficial to commit these thoughts about a process that was deeply significant. It was uniquely my experience, yet others may resonate with some aspects and maybe there will be an aha for someone who has questions about their own experience.

What happened in my body

One of the weirdest and most frightening things that happened is I felt as though my inner organs were being pushed around inside my body. It was like clothes in a washing machine. An intense need to allay my mounting fear arose. I wanted to talk with someone who I knew had experienced this sort of thing, but she wasn’t available. Desperate to understand it, to know what to do.

I simply curled up in bed and held myself to find some comfort, unsure if my body was going to implode or explode! My whole body hurt and ached. For me it was worse pain than childbirth, something I’d done twice without painkillers! Looking back, the only explanation I can arrive at is that energy was trapped in my body and needed releasing. I recall lots of crying. Eventually I fell asleep, and when I woke up, my whole world was different. It was quiet. My body was still. My mind was still. This sense of stillness in me was something I’d not had before.

Over the next few months

I gradually made sense of what happened. My whole world took on a new outlook. I began to listen to Eckhart Tolle and found his teachings resonated with me. I know that what I experienced is termed a ‘spiritual awakening’.

While I had many mini awakenings during my life, (and I’d like to think that if I’d stayed the course, it may have been a far gentler experience! Who knows?!) it is nevertheless, what happened and is part of my life now.

I am on a very different path now to what I had been. It is filled with peace. And as time moves on from that night, I know I am grateful for the connection to the universe that I now have. I know it will never shift. From this there is no going back. It was not a mini moment like the moment in the bedroom as a frightened teen. This experience changed me forever. My lens is no longer broken. I no longer see life through rose-coloured glasses, nor through a jaded green lens. My new lens is now crystal clear and I am deeply grateful as I now see how to live life with greater clarity.

Please feel free to leave a comment below or here by scrolling to the end of the post.

***