Tonight I felt a mixture of emotions. But nestled in among all of it was something profoundly sacred.
Sitting in my living room with some of my favorite people, I found my mind and spirit figuratively drifting around the room. Everyone was occupied with something at the moment, engrossed in their individual tasks. I continued to float, caught up in the beautiful arrangement of “Away in a Manger” playing in the background.
And then, suddenly, the room felt different. And even though I was surrounded by people, it was as if instantly everyone else sort of faded from my awareness, like they were inhabiting a different plane than where I found myself.
But I wasn’t alone.
I knew there was someone in the room that I couldn’t see. I instantly started to cry, suspended in that powerful awareness for several moments. When I “came back,” I looked around from person to person to see if I was the only one aware of what had happened.
Finally I caught my friend’s eye and whispered, “There’s someone here. I don’t know who it is,” with tears falling down my cheeks. As the awareness made its way around the room, others joined me in my tears. Then it felt heavier, as though it was not just one presence but many presences stepping forward to make their energies palpable. My friends felt it too. “There are so many who love you here,” they said. The Truth of it all pierced into my heart, and I wept even more. I can only guess at who my visitors were. No one’s identity felt clear. But their love was undeniable.
The past few days have been kind of rough for me. In part, I have felt a sense of isolation creeping in, almost like a giant bubble is surrounding me. A friend described it well tonight, sensing some loneliness in my energy. She said that this isolation is necessary, to some extent, in order to prepare me to walk the road of childbirth–something I have to do alone (at least physically). I can feel myself separating from my physical surroundings more and more, separating from the busy-ness of life whirling around me, pulling into a place of solitude and stillness. I find myself taking longer baths and showers, “spacing out,” slowing down, wanting to stay at home.
But tonight, as I found myself in that solitary “other plane of existence,” separated from the people around me, I was blessed with a priceless gift: the profound relief and joy of discovering that I am most definitely not alone. In that sacred space of solitude (and always) I am joined by many loving souls, ready and waiting to lift me throughout this journey ahead.