On Disappearing Planes

Something is happening to me.

I feel like that Malaysian airplane. I’ve turned off my navigation. I’m flying in the dark because I’ve realized there’s been a problem with my equipment. It’s been steering me in faulty directions. So now, I’m not quite sure how to fly. I grope while waiting for the upgrade to come like a miracle. There is no wreckage to explain my disappearance, and the rest of the world that once had me on its radar is wondering where I’ve gone.

I didn’t know, didn’t realize that the transition I’ve been in since meeting and marrying Stuart would run so deep. I know love changes things, changes people. It is turning me inside-out, that’s for sure.

Let me go back a moment. Let me speak about the navigation. As I disassemble my life here, certain things are coming into my awareness. As I grapple with impatience, indecision, fear, and surrender, I am seeing just how much I have invested in so many of the wrong things. I was investing in frustration, limits, and in “worse-case scenarios”, investments with little to no returns. I was investing in favored emotions, even going as far as to idolize my ability to feel so deeply. In reality, I was avoiding feelings, both the most abhorred and the most delightful.

My instrument panel was constructed of a slew of thoughts I adopted years ago as I began my spiritual journey; replacements for the thoughts that were implanted in me as a child. But even these upgraded thoughts fed the most comfortable emotions over and over again. I’ve been in a rut, wanting to fly to a new airport, but unable to navigate away from habit and comfort. This matrix of complexity, this web of beliefs has been my automatic pilot. But somehow, this autopilot developed a control-freak will of its own. It grew an “evolved” identity with the sole intent of preserving itself at any cost.

The funniest thing is that all this time, I thought, I truly believed I was flying free. I haven’t been free at all.

So now, the groping. I’m up in the air, between airports. I have no equipment. What else can I do but pray? I’m unclear about my final destination, save that it will be a very different place for me. My investments will change from things that haven’t been bearing any interest whatsoever, in fact, costing me, to things of truer value…things that give returns…things like compassion, acceptance, and trust. I want to invest in Truth, in that unnameable, unknowable, indescribable mystery. I want to live my life in a state of surrender. I want to pull my faith from thought and emotion and put it into a giant question mark. What is love? I don’t know. What is God? I don’t know. Who am I? I don’t know. Who are you? I don’t know. What is real? I don’t know. What will I do in this moment? I don’t know. And this one? Won’t we all be surprised!

To the world I’ve known, maybe I still appear the same. And yet friendships are changing, priorities are changing, and interests too. If not seen, this can surely be felt. Surely there is panic as the many nations that comprised my personality send out search parties with the intent to rescue.

But what is there to rescue? Nothing. The plane is lost.

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