Epiphany

When I was laying awake in the wee hours of the morning of October 26th I was starting to get an inkling of an epiphany. When it struck, with its gentle power, I was left with nothing but tears and a stream of words so golden that they glowed.

Here�s how it happened. I was laying there, thinking of how much I both loved and missed my zines. It was maybe two thirty in the morning at this point. I just couldn�t sleep. My body felt limp, my mind like a train on a circular track going round and round. Unknowingly, though, my heart started to glow in the darkness under the covers.

The dream had been strange. Its hard to describe. I had been shot, but by who or why wasn't important. I wasn't even bleeding, but I had been shot in my lower back and the bullet was lodged somewhere in my midriff and there was this weird purple spot rising like a boil underneath my skin in my stomach and the only important thing was that I was dying. I was going to die. There was a bullet in me and that was it. I was finished. And I was standing in the middle of my house, only it wasn't a house I've ever seen before. My mom was there, and she was putting the dishes away in the dishwasher. She knew I was dying, I knew I was dying and there was nothing going on about it. She was acting as though I was stressing out over a big test I had the next day or something, that was it. I, however, was in absolute panic. I was dying. There was total hysteria in my mind. Tears were sliding down my face and I felt totally out of control. I was dying. I went to lie down on the couch, amazingly it was that old couch my family used to have that always reminded me of a golden retriever because it was huge, shaggy, and gold colored. I was so close, laying on that couch, I was seconds away from dying and I was terrified and hysteric. But I just laid there, it was so weird, waiting for death to come. And then I woke up. I was laying in my bed, clutching my pillow in a soft way, back aching exactly where I had been shot and feeling oddly sad that I had woken up before I actually died. It was like though I was hysteric about it I still wanted it to happen, or knew it had to. It was so bizarre.

So the next night I was laying there, early in the morning. All at once I made the connection. I realized just how much that dream had symbolized. That dream was the perfect embodiment of the day I left America for France. I literally was dying, only to wake up in my new life. My mom had went about that day with a business type atmosphere. She had been ready, but I was not. The hysteria I had felt that day was perfectly reflected by the hysteria in my dream.

I realized all of this in a flash, and the next instant found me scrambling across my dark room to find a notebook and a pen. My heart had passed its glow to my mind and suddenly I had to write. I�ve never felt a Cobweb fight so hard to leave my mind as that one did that night. I found myself writing a beautiful poem that weaved the two situations together. My hysteria was placed on the paper with such profoundness and pain that several times I couldn�t even see the words I was writing through my tears. The paper that holds the poem right now is wrinkly in spots with dried tears. It was, without a doubt, one of the most profound writing experiences of my life.

Now, later, looking back on it I realize that it was an epiphany of sorts. You see, ever since I arrived in France I�ve found myself unable to cry. I�ve been bottling up my emotions in order not to feel them. it might seem melodramatic but I've always been the kind of person that feels every emotion they have on a hypersensitive level. That�s why when I start crying I do it for hours, and when I smile my mom says I can light up a room like a light bulb. Well all of the pain I've been feeling from having to leave everything I know and love behind and jump into this new world where it often seems that I don't really belong has been almost unbearable for me. It was just too much. I started trying to make myself not feel. I've found myself many times trying not to think or anything. I understand that all of this sounds cheesy, but that�s how it is for me. Well, in doing this I gave myself writer�s block. I tend to write on a very emotional level. So, when I hid my emotions from myself I can�t write very well, or even at all it sometimes seems.

Well, that night the bottle of emotions exploded and flooded me with old pain. It was like a dam breaking, and the water had to escape through my fingers, through my pen. My writers block crumbled like a sugar cube in the tide, and I found myself writing with fury. The very next morning I wrote for almost two straight hours with pause.

I talked with my mom about it, and I found out something else that was just amazing as well. In my dream I had been shot in my lower back, and the bullet was right around my midriff. That is exactly where the family home related chakra lays in the body. That makes sense, seeing as all of my emotional pain was from leaving my family and my home. Purple happens to be an extremely spiritual colour, and in fact is the colour of the third eye chakra that lies in the middle of the forehead. This I found seriously amazing, because I write using the energy of the third eye chakra. It�s the chakra of looking beyond, or looking within. Its hard to explain, but I�ve just always known that that is the chakra I write with. The whole dream was about me emotions breaking loose and me being able to write again. It was like by being shot I freed both of those charkas and could write and feel again.

The epiphany is this. I was born both with emotions that go off the Richter Scale, and the ability to write them. I was born that way for a reason. This is my gift, my voice. I cannot cease to feel to make my life easier. They say that most gifted of them all lead hard but very worthwhile lives. Well, with this epiphany I surrender to my power. I will always feel, and I will always do my best to write it.

A river of light runs through us all in different ways. I tried to cut mine off, and it exploded. Maybe its better this way. Now I know where to find it. I believe that it is the goal of life for everyone of us to find what this outlet is (and its different for all of us) and use it without abandon.

Its been said, �I think, therefore I am.� Well now I know for me the saying goes, �I feel, therefore I write, therefore I am.� How does it go for you? It may not be an easy thing to discover, but as I found out, its definitely worth while.