Wake up in an alley 12/21/14

When you wake up in an alley, I mean radically wake up, like deep well, never been here before but know-it-is-you wake up, really, not intending to do so, and yet, to your surprise, you somehow unexpectedly escaped from the here-to-there intentional grip you had as your mind-full preoccupation that somehow inexplicably got you to here. Well, it isn’t like all of your life passes before your eyes, but all of a sudden, out of the blue, it is even hard for you to detail focus into frame on what is immediately in your face. These blips of stories jump out at you though not completed before the next imposing image sweep obliges. First there is the alley’s torn, warn down, sun faded and damp driven with features of consequence from inattention and functional dismay, and they, on their own, ignore you. But you notice, the accumulation of them. They constitute an environment of your current captivity. Maybe a flash impulse for a sense of imprisonment arises. The instinct surely rises to not be there, to not be where you most certainly are, maybe to return to an in-transit format in your mind, like where was I intentionally going in that typical A to B fashion. But no. You catch yourself. You are way back there as this witness behind your awareness delivers you from the imposing dumpsters in their pseudo side-alley logjam, from high walls and fences all around that are closing in on you by their stance and their flat indifference to your mood and presence as an imposition on your picturesque view, or from the fatigue of paint facing you, beat senseless in its lack of a cheery color response, or from the rustle of varied forms of litter that hustle around you based on the nip of the wind and the shape of its disregard when last hands of attention were paid to it if at all. This is a rude start place to wake up to yourself deeply from within, to get or gain a perspective of the life driven character you portray and have possibly believed yourself to be and then as if right now, it hits you from deep soul presence inside. It is in high contrast to your surroundings but true. You . . . get . . . yourself. You get a sense of the spirit of you. Here where there is no willing audience to approve. You get in behind gender, behind family, behind relational situations, behind the drama as story you give as account. The child of you energetically knew better of you from the then-innocence to the now blown open, and, you get it. More so it gets you. It takes you beyond your mind, beyond your, I-know-this-place-in-me. It takes you deep into the essence of that me as spirit. And you wake up as if shifted has shattered your story. You can’t go back to being dimensionally flat and in character as your defense to being any more. You woke up to your spirit, free and clear and clueless as to its relevance impending, but no more without witness, no more without compassion and insight of self and others, no more without self-love and a means of expression for it. Maybe all of life becomes that alley as experience over time until you wake up. Be it this, as impressively high contrast or as comfort zone alluring as boring can be. But, you woke up. And for you, an alley is a state of mind. Perception and that waking up from those environmental hands of assistance is as much a privilege as mother earth could provide, specifically for you. Feel gifted. What woke you up, now honors you. Life has no more alleys, wakefulness will see to that . . .