Awakening Doesn't Happen in a Vacuum

What this elusive term means in my spiritual journey and how my interpretation evolves over time

“Awakening” — oil painting by Louisa Wah 2005

I used to think that "awakening" means arriving at a place above the clouds where I'm in the company of sages and angels — beings above the human realm, beings who don't suffer from the emotional entanglements of homo sapiens.

Many religions have us believe that that's the ideal place to be. Why? Because human emotions and impulses are messy and often the source of pain and suffering. To achieve permanent peace and happiness is to rise above this messiness. 

But what does it mean, to “rise above”? In my youth, when I was going to Catholic school, I believed this place was only accessible after we died.

Then, disillusioned by Catholicism, I latched onto the idea that this place of permanent happiness could be found right here on earth — if I chose to follow the teachings of a particular cult, Jehovah’s Witnesses. According to what they preached, I would be able to live in this “heaven on earth” if I belonged to the small group of 14,400 who would qualify. But how would I know I would be selected? None of the JWs could give me a straight answer.

In my adulthood, I believed that to get “there,” I needed to raise my consciousness through meditation. Just how exactly this was done was a mystery to me. The guru who taught this concept — Maharishi Mahesh Yogi — talked gibberish, yet he was the Emperor with no clothes, and I was under the illusion he was the wisest guy in the world.

I practiced the form of meditation he taught, Transcendental Meditation, day in and day out, thinking that it was the panacea of all my emotional troubles. I did get a sense of temporary relief, and even felt that I was floating on clouds sometimes. But after almost 20 years, I was still a hot mess. My life and my relationships — including my marriage with the person who meditated with me all those years — imploded. 

Life’s repeated beatings jolted me into a different kind of awakening after midlife. Now I’ve realized that awakening means seeing the truth for what it is. It also means seeing the truth of who I am. It’s not about rising above the messiness, but more like wrestling in mud.

Going through this utterly messy experience, the foggy veils of my conditioning slowly dropped, giving away to a vision of how the human psyche works. This vision told me the truth of how personalities are formed. How each of us sees the world differently in our subjective realm. How human nature is filled with complexity, contradictions and shades of gray — as opposed to the two-dimensional, black-and-white, good-vs.-bad idealizations often taught to us through traditions, cultures, the media, literature, and philosophies. 

Above all, I finally saw the truth of our relational and individual nature. As human beings, we tend to ride on a perpetual pendulum swing of wanting to connect yet longing to be separate and unique. Back and forth, back and forth. 

After the inner doors of my soul were forced open by the gusts of life, some of them are permanently laid open, no longer wanting to slam shut with the slightest touch. Others close once more, waiting for me to open them again and again to find surprises and moments of truth at seemingly random times. These moments of truth are like shards of a broken mirror, each piece showing an abandoned, denounced or hidden aspect of my whole self.

I no longer search for that non-existent place in the clouds. I no longer wish for windless and sunny days. I pay attention to the whispers on the other side of my inner doors, and I would knock, open, and witness whatever appears on the other side.

And so, life goes on, and I continue to marvel at the discovery of the missing pieces of the mirror.

There may be a warm breeze or a typhoon, or anything in between. I will continue to feel, and feel more deeply and thoroughly with my entire being. It can be uncomfortable, painful even. But it can also be delightful, exhilarating even.

Whatever it is on the other side, I know it’s life unfolding its never-ending mystery. I’m scared a lot of the times. But there often comes a whisper from my soul urging me to step forward with courage. My job, it seems, is open my arms and accept the challenge.