Like the yin and yang concept of eastern philosophy, it seems that in moments of great confusion, insight is revealed. The answ ers to life’s biggest questions are not in the answers at all, but rather in the questions themselves.
My earliest memory is from babyhood when I understood myself to be a blob of living entity inside a blob of a body. I was crawling on the living room floor when I noticed another baby sitting on the floor against a chair. He caught my attention. He looked like me; he was the same size and shape that I was, yet something was distinctively different. I stopped crawling and looked at him long and hard, carefully studying him in an attempt to understand how he could be so much like me, yet so different. Somehow I knew that I was human, but he was not.
He was a big baby doll, dressed in a flannel shirt and denim overalls. I think that my mom’s friend brought him over because he was only there that one day and I never saw him again.
While I was sitting there across from him taking in all the familiar qualities of his appearance and noticing the subtle differences (his hair wasn’t really hair at all, it was molded onto his head, for example; his facial features were flatter, smoother, less textured than min; and he didn’t move – not all all…), my mom and her friend came into the room and they each scooped us up into their arms.
The next thing I knew, they were putting that boy’s clothes on me. There was much commotion around me. Two big women were standing over me, giggling and squealing and pushing all my body parts into the spaces of those clothes that were clearly not mine. There was an urgency, then jubilation when the last closure was snapped into place. In one swift movement I was scooped up and rushed outdoors, wriggling, flailing and bouncing in my mother’s arms as she and her friend ran out to the street. My father was just returning home from work, so there in the street, he was stopped by those two crazy women and I was pushed through the open window over the steering wheel and left to dangle in my father’s face. He pulled back his head and laughed full and loud.
That’s all I remember, but the epiphany had already made its place in my psyche: this is the earth life; this is where I have come. Strange as it might be, these are my people and this is where I will learn to be.
Though I identified the experience as “strange”, there wasn’t a judgment that the “strange” was bad or good, rather an acceptance of strange itself. I understood that I didn’t understand and that seemed right.
The epiphany was simply the act of taking note of the fact that this whole earth life experience is a process of unfolding events and experiences that reveal themselves one by one.
There were many questions inside me that day, but because I couldn’t ask them in the language of those earth people, they couldn’t be answered. There was no concept of frustration for me though; it was just pure and simple observation.
I think now that this is what is meant in the scriptures where it says
“wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage;
wait for the Lord” Psalm 27:14