What character would inhabit my life movie? No. I am not asking what actor would play me, I am thinking more of the scripted, literary aspect of it. How would the rhythms of the life be constructed? What would be the signature dialogue tics? What would be the arc of lessons and recovery? Who is she?
It is not so much like I feel I am ghosting my life but more like I am floating on it. I watch. I learn. I stay loose. I keep finding sanctuary in not knowing. Such a warm, cozy bathrobe of “I haven’t got a fucking clue” presents itself when I am rigidly sore from resistance.
Yesterday on my way to work background for a movie something remarkable happened. I entered my recurrent nightmare.
Since I was in high school my haunting dream has been that I was late and panic walking in an architectural structure for which I had no map, no reckoning, no tiny clue about the way. I would grow increasingly anxious until I awoke panting, sweating and crying out deep grief.
They would find out. They would discover that I could not discover my path, my assignment, my destiny, the destination.
As I set out yesterday, I carefully set up my phone for the address I was to arrive at to report to work. I left early. And then my google maps went beserk and was crisply delivering words that were lunatic. No. That is NOT the correct direction.
I was talking very loudly to myself and to the chiding hyper female voice coming out of my phone. I could not look at the phone because I would be twice felonious. I could not be late because I would be guilty. I could not get lost because I would be guilty. I could not be distracted at the wheel.
Stopping at a gas station, I was short of breath when I asked for the X on my map. I was going the correct way. I would get there. But I might be late. They would find out I was not orientated to serve, to be blameless.
At an inter section I frightened the driver of a gigantic red pick up by making a suicide turn in front of it to cut down on time. I was not totally sane at this point. I heard the screaming of the truck’s breaks.
Then I asked my guides and angels to take over. Then I breathed deeply and I said outloud to my neurotic self living the worst nightmare recurrence but this time in real life to just trust. “You are okay.” I told myself. “You will get there.”
And I did. I got there early. I got there with sweat pouring out of my arm pits and covering my palms. As I parked the car, I was shaking.
I got there by driving through the manifestation of my recurrent nightmare and reliving it with a successful ending.
The character who would play my life is neither a hero nor a villan. She is just someone who is changing, shifting, growing, failing, succeeding, learning, being stupid, being stubborn, being open, embracing every single thing. Life is dynamic. Life is a vortex of energies. There is no map and no deadline. I just make my way. And silently apologize to some terrified person driving a red pick up. I could still hear the brakes.
“I was a crazy woman. Forgive me.”