Having This One Life: Proving Conscious Narratives Derive From Within

By Unknown - Sunday, December 31, 2017

Much has changed since 2013, my family, my love life, my friends, business. Most importantly are my thoughts. They transformed in the sense that I am no longer who I used to be. And above the many thoughts I have had, the notion of this one life I was blessed with. The importance of how thoughts (consciousness) shape how we live in this world. What we hold dear to ourselves and what is merely illusion.

I want to express to you that imperfection is possibly the most pivotal thing that drives us. What I mean is, we all have our imperfections, areas where we lack, crippling things about ourselves we don’t dare mention out loud. The way we adhere to notions that may or may not hurt our internal narratives. Earlier this evening, I watched a live-stream on YouTube, and as I watched the chat scroll with comments from other viewers – I realized that our desires to remain at whatever state dampers our ability for growth.

There was a time in my life, hurt had flooded my mind. All I thought of was how terrible my life was, how it would never go back to what it used to be. I was in a state of “Learned Helplessness”. I felt forsaken and betrayed by abstracts. Suddenly I found myself sitting in an examination office listening to doctor explain what Postpartum Cardiomyopathy was – how the illness was progressive and life expectancy was typically 5 to at most 10 years. On my drive home moments of my past flooded my mind, the good and bad – my life displayed a series of snippets that blurred my focus. Moments later, one single thought dawned on me that changed everything, “if I went to sleep tonight and died – never to open my eyes again, do I really want what I feel at this very moment, the thoughts and the emotions tied to them to be the last thing I ever feel and think?” The thought itself caused me pain in such a way that it made me shudder.

It was then that I realized that regardless of the loss I had suffered, and this new found death sentence hanging over me. That this wasn’t what I wanted my last day to be like, even if the only thing I could on the day of my last breath was to have a picnic with my son. To tell him how much I love him. To right the wrongs that I had done, to forgive those that had hurt me, to breathe and to enjoy the sensation in my lungs. I would be happy if that was my last day in this physical realm. I had broken; desired to experience more.

Little by little I chipped away at the things that held me in this state of torment. I want to love and be loved (although that proved to have its challenges). I wanted to say all the things I had never said. I want to shout and jump reaching towards the sun. I wanted to dance under the moon like in my childhood. Feel the sand, dirt, and grass between toes again. I wanted to smile that smile as I only could – and most importantly to live how I chose.

I am—yet what I am none cares or knows;

My friends forsake me like a memory lost:

I am the self-consumer of my woes—

They rise and vanish in oblivious host,

Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes

And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,

Into the living sea of waking dreams,

Where there is neither sense of life or joys,

But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems;

Even the dearest that I loved the best

Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man hath never trod

A place where woman never smiled or wept

There to abide with my Creator, God,

And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,

Untroubling and untroubled where I lie

The grass below—above the vaulted sky.

“I Am” by John Clare

I had read this passage not long after my diagnosis, and with it, I said, “never again”. I only have this one life, this one singular life which to everyone else has no meaning – but for me, it is mine. My life is precious and means much more than what anyone can ever say or do. It’s this life that I can shape into my wildest desires – greatest ambitions. I can choose to be, be present.

No matter how imperfect I am – yet I AM! These imperfections we try to hide from, deny they are a part of us are the very things that we choose to define our existence. When we decide how important our lives are to us is when we really really begin to live. And to live based on the terms we determine for ourselves is the greatest gift our imperfections signal.

Our consciousness derives from not only how we see the world, but how the world reflects back on us. And how this world reflects back at us is also shaped by how we claim and exclaim what we want from it. Every notion we believe, every person we commune with, every item that we possess all attribute to influencing this one life we have.

This one small and precious life. It is mine. It is yours, yours to shape and experience – to expand in both consciousness and narrative.

So with this one life that we have, understand that the only person who needs to give it value is you. The only reason you exist is to know you better, to dive into what makes you tick and what pleasure can be sought traversing along your journey. Having this one life is much more than just the mundane practices we have now morphed into our Gods. God is the life force within you.

Devote your time to discovering who you are. Devote to loving yourself, escaping the helplessness we fall too easily in.

Having this one life, surely you are worthy.