THE CROWD
"When did he first decide to stand out and be himself? He was like no one I have ever known. Yet most folks seemed to like him as he was." This from the older woman sitting by the fire.
The other, a man of many years, stirred as if he had been asleep, warmed by the fire. He smiled, remembering the man she had asked about. He had definitely been an original. He hadn't fit any forms. He certainly hadn't been polished or cultured. Yet he had been a good man, and most folks, upon meeting him, had seemed to sense this about him. "Here's what he told me - the story of his awakening, he called it - that last, eventful time I saw him."
I came back to consciousness. Had I been dead? I didn't feel the same as the last time I'd been dead though. But I had definitely been gone. And now I could feel myself back in my body. I felt heavy. I was definitely back in a gravity field. Time had returned as well, although it seemed to be moving slower than last time. I wondered if someone or something had blocked the flow upstream.
I carefully opened my eyes. I saw that I was in a large room with many other folks. They all seemed to know one another, but I didn't recognize anyone. I realized I must be an outsider, a stranger in their midst. I was sure I was the only one who didn't know the secret handshake. I wondered who I was.
I also wondered why they hadn't noticed me yet. Then I saw that I was dressed as they were. I looked more or less the same too, same skin and hair color. I realized then that I knew I was different, an outsider, but that they didn't, at least not yet.
At first, I was afraid to move about. I watched the others for clues as to how they expected each other to act. I began to see how I could pretend to be one of them. Perhaps this would be for the best, at least until I remembered who I was.
I realized that all the folks here were involved in an intricate and emotionally charged dance, each one trying to be noticed and loved yet, at the same time, afraid to be real. I understood that I could stay out of this dance by keeping my eyes to myself, looking only briefly about me and not engaging anyone in particular.
After awhile, after I had gotten the hang of it, I became bored. I had learned to play their game. I had learned to be invisible in their midst. But there was no adventure in this sort of life. No one took chances. No one was willing to be honest.
I knew it wasn't about externals. I had already grown my long beard without blowing my cover. Oh, people called me ZZ or Professor, but, in their eyes, I still fit in.
I decided I would give myself to Spirit. I wouldn't do it their way though. I wouldn't preach and pretend I had any answers. I would just let the winds of Spirit blow me where they would.
In a previous life, I had traveled in a vehicle, living on the road for years. I had wandered about then and so was able to let Spirit blow me where it would. This time around, I wasn't at all interested in living on the road. But I could still live in the flow.
Once I had decided to give myself to Spirit, everyone in the room looked at me, noticing for the first time that I wasn't one of them. I had stopped dancing their dance. A few began to approach me. Others stood off and watched. The first to reach me asked, "What have you done? Why are you different now?"
"I've stopped pretending to be the same as the rest of you. Instead I'm listening to my own inner drummer and following the beat home. And I'm out of here now. There is a much larger world than this about us. Get out of your heads and look about you."
"With that, he smiled at us, one and all, and the walls about our room dissolved. We saw that we were in a world of plenty, filled with life and endless opportunity. Some of us realized even then that we had always been in this space, that we had ourselves put up those walls that had enclosed us in our falsehoods."
Silent for a long while, the older woman finally said, "In one of my lives, he had been my father. Did you know that?"
By Eugene Marks