So Strange It Must Be True

This post is alternately titled, “Katy Perry Never Gives Up.”

Bless you for reading. You are a brave soul.

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I had an out-of-body meditation experience once that showed me how weird it is to be human. (The out of body thing happened more than once, but let’s just start with this one time.) It was like I died and was suspended for a while, and then dropped back into my body, new as a child. And the overarching recognition was that this physical world, this physical existence, opposed to the other, otherworldly realm we all come from and eventually return to, is terribly strange.

Like, subway stations, for instance. Crawling underground like a rat to find your way? A whole series of interconnected trains moving in tunnels at scheduled times?

And traffic lights, and orange and white blockades they put up in cities to block you from finding your way, so that you can’t just magically appear where you want to be?

And my keys never being where they’re supposed to be when I’m walking out the door?

And GPS applications, that never tell you more than one step ahead where you’re intended to go, and in no man-made space can you anymore purchase a paper map that actually gives you knowledge of your surroundings which could help you be independent when you’re getting around and not reliant on technology that tracks everywhere you go?

And the process of purchasing any product, in a physical building or online, which forces you to jump through several layers of hoops so that you must give an email address or sign up for an update or something else that may require blood of some kind, all so you can get the thing that makes you go somewhere else to get another thing to make the first thing work?

Strange, I tell you.

Not normal at all.

A shaman, I learned last year (was that really only last year? I think it was actually many years ago in otherworldly time), lives in two realms simultaneously, and we are all, in this day and age of mysterious evolution, called to be shamans in some form or another. We have to function in this physical plane, and also remain conscious and aware of what really matters, what is occurring in the imaginal realm, at any given time. And the imaginal realm is quite real and vibrant and ever-evolving and ever-changing, but we just can’t touch it the way we can touch a cold glass of water with our hands. These two realms feed off each other, and often intersect. But as soon as we think we have the answers to how it all works, something changes again, because you are human, and just a blip in the great cosmic order of things, and you can never really know.

Or you’re not human, but part of the mysterious essence that moves through everything, and you know everything that ever and never was, you’re just not consciously aware of all that you deep down do and do not know.

This post is so weird. 

I’m just trying to tell you, I think, that when you hear the phrase, We are not humans having a spiritual experience, but spirits having a human experience, which I think was said by Deepak Chopra or some dude like that, it’s totally true. We really are. (And sometimes, perhaps, we’re not spirits or humans at all. Language is really limiting.) There is more to us than meat and bones. There is this whole other world that is accessed through dreams or accessed through meditation and it is as real as anything you can taste or touch. And people who are open to that world, who dance back and forth from that world to this one, well, we don’t know where to put those people, what framework to associate with them in our minds.

They must be crazy. They must be brave. They must be both and neither, too.

No one who ever did anything worth remembering followed all the rules, my dear.

And so let me share with you a little story I thought of yesterday that has nothing to do with what I’m talking about, and everything, too, because perhaps my desire is to confuse you (I’m certainly confusing myself), and because confusion is so, so good to the wandering soul, a rich opportunity for vast comprehensive learning.

Years ago, I was sitting on the couch with my son watching a documentary called Part of Me about Katy Perry. “Part of Me” is a really good song, by the way. Maybe I’ll share it here later. But anyway, my daughter had just gotten her foot run over by a red toy wagon, and my then-husband had taken her to the emergency room, and my son felt guilty because he had pulled the red wagon over her ankle, and we were sitting on our red couch (so much red! it’s delicious) and watching this documentary I got from the library about Katy Perry’s rise to fame.

And Katy Perry was really sad in this part of the drama. I think her boyfriend or husband, which was that comedian guy with long brown hair, had acted like a dick to her or something, and she was on tour, and she was so overwhelmed with emotion she was curled in a ball in her dressing room and she didn’t know how she would ever stand up again. And the cameras were in the room with her (which would really suck), and one of her managing people was asking her what they should do, should they cancel the show? Was she going to be okay? It was alright to take a break for the night, they said, and just take some time to rest and recoup.

But somehow, within a few minutes and some deep breathing, Katy Perry got to the bottom of her brokenness, and then she stood up and said No, she would continue the show.

And my son, who was maybe 8 at the time, turned to me and said, “Katy Perry never gives up.”

And man, was that true. I fucking love Katy Perry.

 

Photo by Sunyu on Unsplash