Forget What I Knew

The night was warm. Crickets and frogs sang in unison – my eyes wide open. The smell of rain left for the season. A cacophony of dandelion dust and squash blossoms filled my nostrils. Spring turned to summer. It was early May, not yet the season, though every bit in bloom.

My bed was more than five feet off the ground. A ladder was built for me by my new husband. Each evening, I hoisted my tired body into bed, hoping I wouldn’t have to get up too many times during the night. I could touch the ceiling with my fingertips. Below me was a built-in bookcase. Almost every book was by Rudolph Steiner. I hadn’t read them yet but marveled at the colors of each book, all in beautiful pastels of reds, blues, and yellows:

It was bliss.

My understanding wavered for a moment. Then, an angel appeared and spoke to me of my future, telling me that I was never to mind my present condition but to keep my eye on the prize.

It was foolhardy of me to believe that “prize” meant material objects. My eyes were already too focused on more than adequate living conditions.

Below me was another set of books by Alice A. Bailey. I had already spent the previous five years studying with a weekly meditation group, though I had barely scratched the surface. Another revelation had come to me in the moment of slumber: put fear and doubt behind me. All adventures in life have a certain element of surprise.

My surprise came months later when I met my first spiritual teacher on the earthly planes. My husband and I had been invited to dinner, and I sat nervously at her family’s dining room table. “You know, Jen-Jen,” she would say to me, “You’ve already done this work. Never mind what you thought you knew.”

Every moment in my life has been a series of awakenings. None, the least of which was this moment when I began to let go of everything I thought life was supposed to be about.