SOMEWHERE ELSE

We, at least most of us, are brought into the world under harsh lights on hard tables in antiseptic spaces that force us to look at our humanity under unflattering light.

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How contrary that I feel kindred to this place of winding corridors stretched like miles of unending prayers pressed into carpet worn from the pacing and pleading of uninvited circumstance.

In my days of walking halls in tied-up gowns as exposed as the fragileness of life set down hard, I regarded the dark rooms with drawn blinds and wondered at this meager attempt to block out the world, as if its sunshine is just too much to bear in opposing contrast.

I remember asking, “Where am I,” amid the disorientation that accompanies both anesthesia and denial. And I remember this vague distraction, like I was clawing my way back to something familiar, certain I should be somewhere else. 

Somewhere Else. Like a tourist, there have been unexpected seasons when I have visited this land, packing the garments of someone I wouldn’t normally recognize, as if pretending or suspending who I really am for just a little while.

But now that preoccupied disposition feels permanent. I see those vacant stares, “Where am I,” everywhere and I marvel at how popular the land of Somewhere Else has become—it's as if we fellow sojourners who had intended only to come for a visit, have made a permanent encampment of tents sewn together with threads of distraction, bewilderment, and disbelief.

I worry over what will become of our humanity when a loved one’s touch or a friend in need become the distraction, when it seems the world should be the distraction instead.

At night, just before falling off to sleep,  my gaze wanders to the edge of the bed and [I know it will sound silly but] I search for my feet. In nearly every single instance, when I am certain I will find them in alignment with the rest of me, there they rest, at least 20 degrees left from a straight line to my head. I am baffled by the disparity between what my body is doing and what mind believes.

How is it possible that I am not able to find myself even while lying still?

How can it be possible to be useful to others when we can’t even find ourselves?

In my awake hours in recent days, I have become accustomed to stretching my gaze over oceans, to teetering and tilting lands that the dark of my brown eyes will never actually see. I allow my thoughts and presumptions to become bigger than the reality of my own existence. I am breathing, upright, and conscious and still become lost—

in the insistence of choosing sides,
in the numbing chaos and disfiguring grief,
in the unfiltered chatter of speculation—

and I begin to tilt and teeter internally.

The world does its best to agitate, overstimulate and stress. Her spinning is no longer invisible but acutely evidenced.

Who are we allowing ourselves to become in the Somewhere Else's that tear apart body, spirit, and mind?

It has become nearly miraculous to not only find but plant our own two feet—
to remember what brings meaning to our lives
to focus on a thousand big and little things over which we have control  
to recognize a million humble blessings right under our nose
to wield Hope as a deadly weapon against despair in every evil form
to believe in and forge a future worth giving everything we have
to set a path and follow it without veering right or left
to refuse the deception of doing everything all the time
to find our identity in something more worthy than all the popular, political things
to do a kind of Good in our neighborhoods that infiltrates every corner of the world.

In the end, Somewhere Else must become the distraction if I am to survive.
Whether shuffling down a quiet corridor or walking under clouded sky.

One step and then the other toward creating a life worth saving as a counterstrike—

In every room that I enter, I am resolved to be the one that opens the blinds and lets in the Light.

NOTES:

During my cancer recovery process I was stunned to live in the reality of our "Sixth Sense”— Proprioception: our awareness of ourselves in relationship to space and time. Literally, it is possible for our bodies to disconnect from our minds. In this place of relative dis-awareness we often stumble, trip, and fall.

Proprioception is so much more than the quality of a connected or distracted mind. It is how we were created, the essence of how we are wired. Close your eyes. Move your arms about. Can you tell without looking how far or close your hands are from you body? Your answer matters more than you know.

Your ability to connect authentically with the rest of the world depends on your ability to connect with yourself. If you’re wondering what you can do for the world, start there. If you’re wondering how, ask the Creator of all things to show you. YOUR STRENGTH COMES FROM BEING WHOLE—body, mind, Spirit acting as one. In times of great calamity and change it’s important to be able to call upon everything you are.