Autobiography of a BreakthroughIn thinking about my recent breakthrough and how genuinely 'gifted' it felt. I began to think about how I had gotten there. It didn't just come 'out of the blue.' So I sat down to write about the stages of the path--the stepping stones along the way. Here's what I came up with.
Well any good breakthrough requires pain. Pain, pain and more pain--and then, a shock, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.
I had done my homework; I've been through more than a year of pain and attachment, emotions and commotions, a lifetime really. Then, I experienced a profound polarity. The perfect date. Fun, easygoing, lighthearted--the connection was there. Or so I thought. Two days later, I discover (through more pain) that my perception of the experience was not matched by my partner's. Shock. Shock has a way of waking you up to the truth.
Then, the hukam. The command. A few days later, full of despair I take a hukam that says something to the effect of: You are released from the cares of men, which was a good sign, but I wasn't even at the beginning of being able to feel it, or experience it.
Then, therapy. My therapist looks at me and says, "So, you're a vampire." Well--wasn't that a shock! It's a long story, but I have a history with vampires--and I certainly never believed the term applied to me.
Then, a talk with my Teacher, who says in no uncertain terms, Well, you either don't believe you deserve better or you choose men that don't demand excellence from you--that is, you can always feel better than them (because they're such losers, right? wrong).
Then, a trip to visit friends in Boulder and the realization, once again, that marriage isn't exactly the ticket to ease and comfort. Being single isn't so bad.
Then, more pain, rumors, slander, not really knowing what's true and what isn't. Truth and Lies.
Then, a memory. Liberation. Liberation had once been my watchword. Even in my years of complete debauchery and attachment, I longed for liberation.
Then, a moment of clarity. I realized (from my work in the program) that the only way I could experience freedom was to look at me--my part. What did I bring and what did I get out of this dynamic, this year-long saga? It was a painful epiphany, but it rang so true and my experience of relief was so palpable, I knew it had merit. Putting aside what he may or may not have done, I continued the dynamic by seeking him out, staying in contact, always trying to make a connection. I was the one responsible--and in this realization I received a profound sense of taking my power back. I could change. I could simply stop.
Then, the breakthrough. I was meditating in sadhana. He was there. So I meditated on him and my part in it all and all of the sudden, I was no longer angry. I realized that the samskara was completed. We were done--and we were not only done, but I was done. I was done being the kind of woman who needed a man to save or be saved. I had a vision where I not only said goodbye to him and our samskara, but also to our son, who has been in my consciousness since I met him. I said goodbye to the idea of a child and what a child represented in my unconscious--another way to be saved, another way to validate my existence.
Then, forgiveness. I called my beloved and shared my experience and wished him well. I will always love him; but that simply means that I will always wish for his happiness--and my own.
It's just me. I'm here. I'm alive. I'm free. Free to simply be. I may have finally realized the essence of my name--Sat Purkh--and I've never felt better.