I was walking down the street, full of joy and bliss, and I found myself saying to myself that I’d better cool it.
People would think I’m drugged or drunk. And I’m neither. I’m in the transformed space.
But just as suddenly I heard another voice say: “No, I don’t want to hide it or shed it or deny it. I want to be as happy outside as I am inside from here on.”
And that settled the matter.
I found myself snapping my fingers and “dancing” down the street (modest dance). You have to understand that to myself, that’d be the equivalent of a rhinocerus pirouetting. I could see that many people scarcely believed what they were seeing. Someone smiling, snapping his fingers and dancing silently to the music.
No, that’s how I feel. And I can take one of two courses. I can suppress it or I can express it. If the former, I hand in my awareness writer’s badge.
If the latter, then my entire conversation from this moment on – when on this topic – would simply be: How do I express the bliss?
Under what circumstances? To what degree? In what manner?
What would happen if there were thousands more of us or dancing down the street? Not like a staged event. A spontaneous outbreak of happiness.
Well, that would be fine with me. I popped my cork. (1) I can stand the love. Now, I can. I couldn’t before.
If I take this path, of staying with expressing it, I can imagine that I might see fewer people. One of the ways I lose this space is to give it away to another. I then occupy their space which could be about selling Encyclopedia Britannicas. I’m no longer willing to sell out this space.
This is one the longest stretches I’ve ever been in the transformed space.
I simply consider it normal now and am actually quiet about it rather than dancing down the street. I did some breathing exercises designed to let go of holding patterns in my stomach and that helped stabilize the space. I seem to hold my anxiety, fear, worry and such in my stomach.
I’m behaving perfectly normally now, although I’m joyous. I feel grounded, happy, content to lie on my bed and just enjoy my breathing. I may watch a movie tonight, something I almost never do. I may watch a lot of movies, five minutes of each. I may do nothing at all, have a luxurious bath, listen to music. I feel completely carefree.
(1) The heart opening of March 13, 2015, which felt like popping a very large cork.