I’ll meet you on the other side of this experience. This sobering, sober, vulnerable experience. Experiencing fear, anxiety, the unknown. Experiencing gratitude, support, love. Humans coming together, linking hands, arms, bodies, minds to create a bolster, to hold each other up. I’m living the metaphor. I’m living the dream. The song. I’m walking the path. I’m hearing the silence. I’m witnessing the over-stimulation. The tingling in my hands and feet, the tightness of my chest. The rapidness of my heart beat. The buzzing in my brain. The soreness behind my eyes. Fearing what happened before will happen again. Driving a vehicle, slowly just in case, saying to myself out loud, “10 more miles til I can see his face . . .5 more miles til I can feel his presence . . .1 more mile til I can smell his scent . . .1 more step until I can hear his breath.” I could die right now. I could die tomorrow. I could die in 100 years. But I made it. I closed my eyes and found stillness. I listened to breath I was craving. Aware of every system in my body but unable to pinpoint the thing or things that are causing the trouble. I listen to the dead talking. In songs and books. In the sun on my face. In the moon on my skin somehow I can hear them. I feel the living breathing. In the rivers rolling forever, and the wind blowing on. In the trees growing. In the smile on Fraeyah’s face, I can feel them. Blue eyes freezing time, trancing me into reflection. My obsession with sight, oh, how we can see! How is it so? That my eyes can roll back in my head uncontrollably for what seemed like 100 twitches per second, for 90 seconds. Yet, right now, I can see. Breath slow, calm, steady, rhythmic, lower body relaxed; while chest arms and hands are clenched, left hand postured and twitching, face pale as a corpse. Yet, right now, I can feel. I can see and feel better, right now, than ever before. Control freak losing control in front of a group of people for 90 seconds. Air has never smelled so sweet, so satisfying. Time has never felt more precious. People never more beautiful than right now. Never have I experienced so objectively, so unbiased. Each breath, each blink of the eyelids, each swallow of saliva. A gift. A gift of the body. A gift of consciousness. Gravity; mental, physical, spiritual, emotional gravity. Overwhelmed in gratitude, drowning in it, soaring through it, swallowing it, vomiting it out.
On Saturday December 2, 2017, my motor function, memory, and consciousness were taken from me for 90 seconds in a siege with no warning (seizure def. uncontrolled electrical activity in the brain). I see everything differently now. Did I die? I don’t know. Something did. Is lightening alive? What is consciousness? What is personality? What is soul? I’m still asking the same questions as before, but from a different angle. Under a different light. I’m not sure what I felt. I’m not sure what I saw, heard, tasted, smelled. I must understand what happened to me. I’m so happy and grateful to be alive. The gods were created from human archetypes and divine nature. How do I know what’s right? What’s really real? If the “gods” have chosen me for this particular experience, have I really chosen myself? Is this shamanic illness? Is this the beginning of epilepsy? Are there other forces at play here? Is nature moving through me? That’s kind of what this feels like. The elements; fire, water, earth, air, ether. . . moving, creating me, making me up, tearing me down, ripping me apart. I feel as though something has shifted. Something is always shifting. Worse case scenario: What if I have a tumor? What if I have cancer? An infection in the brain? What if I know when I will die? How will the cards lie? How will I spend my time? How will I have to rearrange my life? The peices of the puzzle? How will I make sure my love lives on forever echoing throughout eternity? Is it already? Ancient love. Futuristic love. Hippie love. One love. Romantic love. Familial love. Divine love. I love. I love unconditionally. All of you. All of nature. All of space. All of the universe. All of consciousness. All of conceptualization. All of knowledge. All of evolution. All of creation. All of destruction. All of balance. All of the collective. What have I been? Who am I now? What will I become? Paramedics asking me, “What is your name?”
And in a daze:
Patricia Christine Hawkins.