Conscious Living

No Rhyme nor Reason

Uninvited commentaries by a self-appointed writer

After three weeks of worry and overwhelm, laced with negative self-talk, I woke up! Yes, literally. One morning I opened my eyes and noticed the sun was breaking through a sad and angry sky and felt my heart lighting up with an epiphany. I don’t know which came first, the epiphany or the sun.

I decided, without knowing for sure (when you have epiphanies, the last thing you want to do is go and get a dictionary), “an epiphany is the exquisite moment when the very obvious becomes reality.” And here it finally is: “There is no point in worrying!”

I keep repeating this to myself and to Rudolf as if shining up an already polished mirror.

His shoulder I lie on is the best in the world. His hand resting on the lower back of my menstrual body is the most gentle I have ever experienced. His smell is the sweetest ever and how could I ever imagine a future without him.

Another thing that happens when I have epiphanies is that I burst into poetry. Here it comes:

You are the joy of my heart (Rudolf beams)

The pleasure of my senses (he vehemently nods his head)

Refuge of my pain (he urges me to write it down)

Hope of my future (he passes the diary and a pen to me).

The other thing that happens to me when I have epiphanies is when they strike me, they leave a smelly fat burn on any value I have ever attached to the many psychological and spiritual “truths”, that I have paved my self-discovery path with. Some of them package themselves as “the secret”. Aren’t secrets usually what healthy imaginative children dream up and disturbed adults use to manipulate children with and cover their own tracks?

Back to that epiphany. I hadn’t read another “how-to-live-my-life” book nor listened to the latest inspirational speaker or meditated deeply, or being kissed by the walk in nature. I hadn’t been rattled by a tragic event nor being rewarded for my gratitude and deeply held belief that I can have everything that I want. … I had simply woken up.

Mirjam Busch 13/4/2007

Copyright © 7/2007 by Rumijabu | Originally published in “Partners in Dialogue” July 2007

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