stripped

I'm naked. I don't like it, so I put on an undershirt and underwear. Then a t-shirt and skirt. Then a sweater. Then a scarf. Then my black glitter Toms. Then my mom's wedding ring and my favorite Pyrex ring. Then my Michele watch and the silver bracelet Missy gave me. Layer upon layer. I feel safe. Identifiable. In known territory.

The phone rings. It's my daughter. Bad news. I feel the bracelet slip off, then my watch, and rings, then my sweater and scarf, quickly followed by t-shirt and underthings. Stripped in one phrase. I'm naked. I have nothing left to identify me, nothing left to cling to. I don't want anything - those things feel heavy to me right now, and anything even beyond what's in front of me is too much to even think about. How could I ever have surrounded myself with so much excess in the first place? How could I think that heaviness would be helpful to me? Help ground me or something?

I mentally shake my head and feel myself in a free fall, but it's not unpleasant. It's wide open, this white light place I'm falling toward, and I think it has to do with letting go of control, and of the illusion that things give us. Things aren't real. Nothing really is, if you think about it. Everything is just empty space, when everything is broken down to its base component. I think then - if all of this is stripped away, what is left? I look around, and all I see is white light. Maybe that's the answer. I guess we'll just have to keep falling and wait to find out more as we go.

Buy a handbag? Hah - give 10 away. I don't care anymore. Anyone's welcome to most everything I own. I open my doors to friends and family to look over everything - anything catch your eye? Because I'm pretty sure I can live without it. I'm pretty sure it would be good to live without it. It's just too much.

Waking up. I feel like Neo in the "Matrix." They said you can't wake people up after a certain point because their brains just can't make sense of the difference between their waking state and reality. I feel it. But I know it's not too late for me. Or for you. For us. Timing is everything. It's all perfect. But this waking up? It's just not what I thought it would be, but it's okay, I think. Just difficult. But who said difficult was bad? It's just... difficult. Stripped bare. Down to the White Light of the All That Is. Back to the Center, Home, my soul. Where there are no things, no separation, and no illusion.