But First, a Question

6 AUGUST 2015

Twenty three years ago today I got the call that my mom had two weeks to live. She was my grounding, and her rapid departure left me spinning.

A little less than two years later, late at night in the Hotel sans Culottes in the Bastille district of Paris, I saw my egg drop in my head, shining like the Star of Bethlehem in a sea of black velvet. I was in the middle of what later was called a “psychotic episode” but there are many who would call it an awakening. There are many who would say it was a result of faulty brain wiring, or chemistry, though neither can be proven. But I know it was not a hallucination. Two weeks later I did get my period, so I was in fact ovulating and did in fact see the movement within my body, the energetic and physical monthly fact of the potential for new life within me.

What does this mean? I don’t entirely understand it, but I believe it was a peeling back of layers of perception. There are multiple screens through which we view the world, which, taken together, make up what we call reality. In my state, those layers were dissolving, they were being pulled back, so I perceived much that I normally didn’t, and don’t.

Do we really want to “cure” that?

It reached an apex two days later, and I’d lost the ability to navigate safely in our construct. I was drugged, stabilized. This put the layers back on and then some.

I was safe. But was I healed? Was I whole?

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