My Rapidly Changing Reality (RCR)

by OneTaste New York  Apr 15, 2014
My Rapidly Changing Reality (RCR)

Phase 1: Would you like to move to London?

Shock. Instant tears. Un-cohered questions like, why does my desire have to break my heart? I felt my yes, I saw the excitement a ways away on the horizon. After all, this is the call an infinite player waits for; the call where you get to see what you're made of. I've been OMing for five years. I felt my practice take over and my orgasm and deeper desire for a bigger game begin to lift me up and carry me.

All I had to do was surrender to the flow and say yes, same as with everything else. Move in resonance with what's happening - feel for the root of me and how it's tethered into my orgasm and into the ground that is my higher power - and allow that place to guide me.

Phase 2: Crying

I called in my partner and we cried for a half an hour together. That day, we were peaking. There is this moment in an OM where everything is sort of breathless and gorgeous. It's quick and it's glorious in how fleeting it is. You're meant to change the stroke at this moment - to not try and linger inside the perfection of that particular sensation but rather change right then and begin to build to your next peak.

Had I said no, or hesitated too long, I would have missed the potent taste of true liberation during this window. But I did say yes, and so the current form of my relationships and my life immediately began to avalanche and shatter in slow motion.

I could feel every crack, every quake. I was swept instantly and thoroughly into a deep, wet mourning as my life as I knew it crumbled around me. My partner traveled with me inside of the bright, sharp pain of it all, weeping as the perfection of our latest peak washed away like chalk sidewalk drawings in a thick downpour. Phase 3: Discovery & Recovery

Cut loose from the form my life had taken and suddenly everything felt very fresh and new, as though seven layers of skin had been removed and I was a baby in the world again. As we drove to the store in search of a warm London coat, a cool breeze played on my skin, keeping my body trembling slightly, every touch of his hand flushing me further into my involuntary. Electricity filled me and my thoughts swirled in a quiet storm of all that needed to be done before leaving. Every nuance of the busy world around us brushed up against me in waves. Every subtle wave of pain in my heart rippled outward through my body and his and out into the world. True tenderness had me both unapologetic and shy. A sense of being carried by a benevolent force filled me with wonder. The texts rolled in as everyone heard the news - “Don’t worry, little one; LA has magic but London has deep witch wisdom.” My grief began to alchemize into pure, crystalline joy and gratitude.

 

Phase 4: Massive Tumescence

My passport had to be renewed. As the process dragged on, I had to change my plane ticket and wait an extra 36 hours to leave than originally planned. My system swelled with pending, un-potentiated energy. I felt thick and irritable. Suddenly I couldn't leave soon enough. Why is the passport agency so stupid? Jesus Christ if one more person wants to hug me goodbye I'm going to explode. Let me out of here! I can't go back into the grief but I can't leave yet and fly either. Finding equanimity here was the hardest part. My boyfriend had left for a previously planned trip up north and we had already said our goodbyes and shared our last tears together. I was ready. It was time.

Phase 5: The End & The Beginning

On the plane, I wept for an hour as the door to my past closed forever. There's a sense of finality as you lift off into the sky like nothing else. I could feel all the previous versions of myself liquefying off of me faster than I could deal with. An intense grief welled up from my core and overtook me completely, tears rolling down my cheeks dripping onto my clothes thick and hot. I let it go on for a while and then pulled out a book I have about dismantling patterns and read a few pages.

I remembered that my mind is designed to create separation so that I can self-observe but that mostly it goes overboard and ends up convincing me I am separate from whom and what I love. I began to feel a sense of wholeness again. I arrived many hours later and felt dissipated and fucked up for a whole day...and then...God, or something very big that loves me very deeply, came in and began to settle me down.

I felt alive again, thawed out and warmer despite the London cold. And then a kitchen friendship began to form, and another little one needed comforting, and another needed someone to see into her soul...and so it goes. The skills of sight and love that have been cultivated in me are so needed and instantly I'm in motion, in purpose, useful and swept up into the flow, just like that: a rapidly changing reality.