The moonlight crept through the clouds into my bedroom where my eyes were fixed on the white ceiling above … looking at … nothing really. The sound of a mosquito held my attention as it flew hungrily to and from my face. I could see the bloodsucker as it dashed in and out of the bright moonlight … in and out of sight. My eyes would go back to the ceiling when the mosquito became less entertained by my swatting hands. These late evening nights, when the city streets are quiet, is a ripe time for listening. The echo of the earth, initiating the echo of the unconscious, can sometimes be entertaining. Yet, in this moment, it was more like the mosquito … I just couldn’t swat it away.

It was there … vivid … presenting my life’s legacy onto the screen of my conscious awareness and … not all of it was pretty. “It’s amazing how much energy, time and attention we spend in being immature, then how much energy, time and attention we have to spend in undoing that immaturity.” This I thought as my buried unconscious history was being revealed to my wakeful state then, “What a funny life,” I pondered with a smile.

The series of events that had led to this moment of release are really uneventful, but full of learning lessons that provide fuel for everyday living in awareness. It’s a different form of recycling, I suppose. Every bit of it is useful … nothing to be wasted. Yet, as I was looking at this procession of the unconscious stream of information, I understood that up until this point what I mistook for living could very well have been interpreted as “The Story of My Conditioned Life.”

What different choices would I have made if my conditioning wasn’t the force behind my patterned reflexes? How might I have related to the people in my life differently had I been more aware of the delusions that guided those automated reflexes? Where would I be now if I had been “residing in being” instead of attempting to be something other than … this? These questions exist as a long, dark tunnel, without ending and the fact of the matter is that … this is it.

The past is now. The leaves are the roots. Much of the “conditioned life” is bullshit … but that shit makes good fertilizer. It helps produce fertile soil for deep seeds of intention that open awareness  and can mature to fruition.

In this awkward moment of realizing how far I had been traveling from my true nature is the same moment in which gratitude came over me. Thankful for not having to relive those days of immature ignorance and now being able to step graciously into the unknown without the baggage of yesteryear. What an exciting moment this is. 

The mosquito that was hovering over me for a spot to receive sustenance appeared again. I allowed it. “Fine,” I thought. “You want to make my arm itch for a few days so that you can live a little longer? Fine, then. Have it, my friend.” I provided fuel for its life, just as the revelations from my unconscious provided fuel for my new state of being.

And so it is. 

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