I read something wonderful yesterday. It was another bloggers rumination on love. It was a deeply honest expression and I am not sure why but it stirred my consciousness out of the frustration I was feeling and led me to a greater understanding of my own personal situation, but it did.
I’ve had moments of revelation before, in the true sense of the word: an holistic moment where my entire being thrummed with an ‘aha’ moment that shook the entirety of my knowing of myself and I bloomed into something else. A core cognitive and psychological awakening that was so intense that I felt it physically and there was a spirituality to it that made me believe the words of the poet Rumi (and other deep Mystics of all faiths), to trust that he truly understood the sense of self and the relationship of self to the greater universal atomic (even sub-atomic) structure. But recently, I experienced a revelation that struck my core the deepest yet. So much so, that I hardly know myself in this new fledgling form. This experience emerged from a fragment I heard in a psychological lecture. It resonated so intensely that when I tried to express its meaning to another whom I love and trust, my deepest self rebelled in terror and my body reacted with pure fear, the fight or flight response engaged with all the physical discomforts including severe anxiety. I thought however, that despite the disquiet, through my observation of this dramatic response and persevering with my explanations, I had embraced the realisation wholly and was allowing it to gently percolate within me. Yet I was reminded yesterday that although I have taken that first all-important step of fully acknowledging the experience, I am still in the process of allowing change to take root and flourish.
Fear is a powerful master, years of soul rending fear cannot be overcome in a single moment, yet it is possible, through a series of moments, a string of pearl like gifts to oneself. Nor is this process likely to be gentle. The frustration and exhaustion I have been experiencing is simply the very natural process of dissonance. The shedding of what is no longer needed which inevitably becomes uncomfortable, almost unbearable and leaves one out of harmony within the self. Each moment of discomfort is a small crisis which ultimately gives way to a pearl of development and freedom from the shackles of fear and control that developed when we were but children or at least younger than we are today. Metamorphosis is no easy road but the liberation, and honesty to our true selves, is worth the discomfort of disharmony and this too will pass.
Image: Salvador Dali (11 May 1904 – 23 January 1989) ‘Metamorphosis of Narcissus’ – 1937.
Dali’s poem to accompany the painting:
Under the split in the retreating black cloud
the invisible scale of spring
in the fresh April sky.
On the highest mountain,
the god of the snow,
his dazzling head bent over the dizzy space of reflections,
starts melting with desire
in the vertical cataracts of the thaw
annihilating himself loudly among the excremental cries of minerals,
between [sic] the silences of mosses
towards the distant mirror of the lake
the veils of winter having disappeared,
he has newly discovered
the lightning flash
of his faithful image.
It seems that with the loss of his divinity the whole high plateau
pours itself out,
crashes and crumbles
among the solitude and the incurable silence of iron oxides
while its dead weight
raises the entire swarming and apotheosic
plateau from the plain
from which already thrust towards the sky
the artesian fountains of grass
and from which rise,
the innumerable floral spears
of the deafening armies of the germination of the narcissi.