Day 369: The Unmade Bed
Looking at one of those out of the corner of your eye things: leaving the room, the eyes drag slightly over a view of the unmade bed, seeing that turmoil of sheets, I stop for a moment to take it in: have I really ever looked at this before?
Considering at the same time that this is where on Earth I slept so many times, disengaged beneath these crumpled sheets, where my body has left a profile, and in looking at the bed and seeing myself within it, how I’d made that profile, and looking at who I was within that, it was at first perception an affair of horror, fear and dread, and yet what was rising up beneath these emotional perspectives was something slower: an acknowledgement, or letting in, of something real which was my responsibility within a decision I had made, and it was the realization of the profundity of a mistake that had seemed to justify a flouting of life, to remain as asleep within the suspensions of my mind.
It was the emotional experience attached to Mistake that first had jolted me, and yet stepping back from this I could also see that these reactions were peripheral to the realization of the mistake, were the play outs of past relationships to the word Mistake, and so what I was seeing here plainly was an image of me hiding from the broad day of physical reality, and hidden within that from that realization itself, from that perspective, from that conception.
Seeing this I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to hide from me my responsibility for ignorance, my responsibility for blame of and separation of me from the ongoing physical day. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed the word Mistake to define me, to define my relationship with myself, to define the experience of me. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to judge myself in seeing myself in an act of willful ignorance.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to become victimized within this act of denial. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to judge myself in seeing that I have accepted and allowed myself to become the victim. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to connect fear to a perception of the ongoing reality of the physical day. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to exist in a belief that I can devalue all of life for the sake of continuation of an experience of myself within my mind as various harmonies of sleep. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to within these layers of suspension to be prepared within myself as a programming of who I’ll be today in relation to the day.
I straightened up the bed, I pulled the sheet taught, I shook out the imprint of the night before. What do I take with me: that I have attended to this moment, that this perception of my sleeping self as part of and in view of this physical reality that I am standing in, changed the nature of that corner of the eye moment from in a way habitually witnessing my suppression of who I’d been in hiding from myself as a part of a habitual leaving of the sleeping room process, to quickly pass through that door and pay no attention to that moment, that moment of as-is of the fabric of the sheets, of my body wrapped in such a way, of the as-is nature of the consciousness within that, and within that, being, sunk within as-is-ness of the system – I changed it to a moment of seeing: So ok what is here that is left in the corner of my eye, as I commence with something else?
… continuing next post …
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