Driving down the street one day,
suddenly recognizing that we’ve been
in a daydream for who knows how long.
Then we see the pattern:
Asleep in life. . .then momentarily awake.
Living in imagination. . .then present and accounted for.
Completely identified with our own trip. . .then standing back
and watching, more objectively—like a movie, but from inside it.
These alternating modes do not have to
be problematic at all, part of us knows.
Looked at from across the threshold
into the next world, they will both be seen
as necessary, as complimentary,
as two sides of the same coin.
Nonetheless, in our gut we sense that we need to
put our shoulders to the wheel, over and over.
We need to keep the home fires burning,
the driver’s seat at our core occupied
(by someone other than everyone else).
Because our destiny is to move towards
greater awareness of everything we can sense,
greater understanding of what moves us,
greater feeling for the people we touch,
greater freedom from the traps that our ego sets,
like landmines, buried deep in the very fabric of our daily lives.
For that, we need more moments awake,
—pleasant or not—
aware of what is true,
on multiple levels,
underneath the surface of things,
our antennae quivering.