Suddenly I had one of those moments when you are snatched out of your own life and are looking down at it. I was watching this simplicity and purpose when I had a vision of my own existence, living in a large house surrounded by tons of stuff. An environment that will be here when I no longer am, rather like a stiff set of clothes with no body inside. For a moment I couldn’t think why I was living this way.
Gradually it came back, though I didn’t want it to. In Richard Rohr’s book, Falling Upward, he theorizes that we can only understand people on the next level of higher (or deeper) development, and that people on levels beyond that invariably appear misguided and extreme. Jesus, Mahatma Gandhi, Mother Teresa, are all admirable but incomprehensible.
What I experienced was like a curtain being pushed momentarily aside, the gift of glimpsing my life as, say, a monk in Algeria would. Then it dropped back into place, even as I tried to hold onto its emotional truth.
What next? I’m intrigued by the possibilities.