The Beginnings of Somewhere in the Middle of Things (An Autobiography)

I wrote this on August 26, 2013.  A letter to myself.

At some point, at some time, you will simply be amazed. “Wow” won’t cut it, but it will be all you can muster. Thoughts and ideas will become hollow in the face of the intuition within you. Surrender to it and unfurl the sails of your soul, letting those Divine winds take you to places you have never seen.

You begin a new leg of your fantastic journey. You believe it is fraught with trials and tribulations, with pain and suffering, but such fear is a bastard liar meant to keep you in port. Believe in no fear, for you shall not fall from the edge of this Earth, regardless of what others say.

Do not let the work that is necessary give you pause, for love’s work is no effort at all on the seas you were meant to sail. You’ll go about the business at hand with a smile, a laugh, a few tears, and some groans that will escape your lips with each drop of sweat that falls from your brow. If the seas become too rough, or the effort becomes work, check your compass and change your course. There is only smooth sailing on the seas you were meant to travel.

I’ve been fortunate, I’ve lived a full life. I’ve survived abuse, self-hatred, a morbid curiosity and countless incursions into my own abyss.  I’ve felt hatred, intense and unending anger, depression, and a sense of loss I never thought I could overcome. I’ve cried myself to sleep only to awaken so that I could repeat my errors over and over again.  I’ve been wounded both by others and by my own hand more times than I care to count.

I’ve hurt people in the fullness of my life. I’ve been horribly mean at times, allowing my self-hatred to pour out over those I feared the most. I was so lost in my own darkness I wanted to bring others into it. Suffering was my curse, and I often felt the need to share it as if it were some gift I should be giving.

I was also a good person. I always tried to offer a hand to others, to help those who would both seek my help and to those who had never met me. I’ve put my life in harm’s way to save lives, and dedicated much of my life to helping others in need. My body bears the scars of some of those efforts, and my mind shares in memories of haunting visions that have forever left their mark.

It was in my work here that I stayed connected to the part of me that was my earliest memory. I was a sensitive boy who loved everything around him. I loved the bunnies I saw in my neighborhood. I loved the trees. I love the people I came across, even the blades of grass I would lay on to study the clouds as they drifted by.

Later in life, much later in fact, I was to discover the greatest gift within me. Throughout my life I’ve been able to observe myself. Even in the times when I felt hopelessly lost, I was able to observe myself in the wrong turns and dead-end alleys. Even as I sunk deeper into the darkness, I always felt somehow separate, yet apart of, the experience.  Even as I struggled to change into the man others wanted me to be, I was watching things unfold.

About five years ago I met a monk named Yatiishvarananda who taught me a practice of meditation. As I grew in the practice, he gave me a name, Gyandeva, which means “Lord of Divine Knowledge”.

“Isn’t that a bit much?” I asked him. He laughed and put his hand on my shoulder.

“You have always been a watcher and a seeker. Now, it’s your time to apply those lessons that you’ve learned. Your life has been lived for a reason.”

It took me some time, a divorce, (and the mighty financial struggles that came with it), as well as some life-or-death health issues, but I finally grasped his words. That meditation not only very likely saved my life, but it also uncovered many realizations I had learned over the years.

Then came a now-deceased Indian philosopher named Osho, the Four Agreements and deeper mediation. Then came a sudden, but long-sought move to Colorado. In between all of those came people who guided me onward and deeper.

One thing I’ve learned is that sometimes the beginning of things are in the middle of them. Sometimes the greatness we achieve is in the mediocrity we have surrendered to Sometimes the joy we feel is born after great sorrow. Sometimes acceptance springs from great resistance.

There were a few moments when hope was lost. There were some instances when the lows just seemed to deep to overcome. Yet they weren’t. Those valleys are there so that we can see the great summits, and those summits exist with an unmatched view because of the valleys that surround them. It’s part of the cycle of this life, with our choice reigning supreme over the every situation we encounter. Our choice to climb. Our choice to fall. Our choice to see things in a way that supports us. Our choice to create the very perspective we may have once felt powerless over.

I can’t wait to read this in a year, and see what peak I may be looking at it from. Yet, I’m content looking at it Now, and embracing all that is around me. What a fucking view!

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2 thoughts on “The Beginnings of Somewhere in the Middle of Things (An Autobiography)”

  1. This is my favorite thing you’ve ever written ~
    I know I have said that before ~
    And will probably say it again ~
    Thank you for letting us into your head and your heart ~

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