The Veil Lifts

I can’t believe this is happening to me. Some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this.’ Those words from Kelly Clarkson‘s hit song, A Moment Like This, haunted me in my homeless days, now they resonated with renewed meaning. I’d come a long way since then; done an incredible amount of healing, but the residue of times past still lingered. I still felt lonely. I still felt alone. I still felt….

Awash in fanciful feelings, reality fell victim to romantic vision. But I’d come a long way since then. Now the difference tore at my being. Stay with us a little while longer and live out your fantasies or face disappointing reality? Why did everything have to disappear? Why couldn’t it last forever or was I asking for something that simply could not be? It didn’t matter for even in the question lay the answer. A latent subroutine revealed itself: to seek truth and love everlasting. Yes, it was good to have remote and implausible things to hold onto rather than the unknown, but now the known had come and ruined its deceptive game. Choice: did I want to settle for second best?

I’d come so far and seen so much that science simply couldn’t prove, but there were thing it couldn’t disprove either – yet and maybe never. Besides, science was only one key to reality and there were so many doors that needed opening.

Lost in a world of grayish hues, sounds became muffled, people became hurdles and life became ghost-like. I felt like I was being erased from existence once more. But I had the keys. Did I want to open the doors?

In a world of metaphors, I stood on the altar of love lifting the veil from my eyes. Fears exponentiated once again in scolding torment. It hurt to be around people. I should’ve stayed in bed and shut out the world, but I chose different. But I could choose again! In another vision I was escorted by two guides before a large female figure seated in a chair. Wearing black pants and a golden jacket of many colors, my hand covered my eyes concealing me from her. Tears streamed down my face. I didn’t want to see her; I wasn’t worthy. But now I felt a change. I was worthy. All my work had been about that one moment in time. To lift the veil of undeservedness from my eyes and ask for forgiveness. In my heart I sensed she would not decline.

The vision shifted. I now lay prostrate on the ground smothered by the feminine. Choking in a grey cloud, I longed for my masculinity to awaken and take its proper place in my life. My male force begged to be let free to live and breathe once more. The relationship between smothering and my asthmatic childhood became apparent. I breathed in deep loving energy and became a lone angel wrapped protectively in its wings, weeping tears for what creation had made me do in the name of living. Such sorrow resonated through the eons to the present. I’d done so much, seen so much – and loved so much – surely then this must be the end?

In the finality of the moment one truth stood revealed: I wasn’t going to settle for second best. My heart finally knew what it truly desired. All the money, fame, notoriety, infamy, sex, drugs, you name it, were merely pathways to that insight. Without them I wouldn’t be who I was. My heart burst open and I had nothing but love for those very things I felt compromised my virtue. Yet they all boiled down to one thing: perceived security. As specialness faded into the ether, I joined the ranks of humanity.

Hand on veil; I lifted it ever so slowly from my face. Its metaphorical meaning blazoned the senses. Not only could I see out, others could see in. I now stood naked before God, groom and everyone in attendance.

To the sounds of heavenly orchestrations, thoughts, feelings, emotions and physicality sat in attendance like honored guests. as in any ‘normal’ wedding, naggers and ‘ne’er-do-wells’ chattered away and complained about things that they found displeasing. ‘I can’t believe she’s wearing white. Who does she think she is? And too much makeup? I don’t like that dress. Hope the groom knows what he’s getting himself into…’ But in the end it didn’t matter. They had every right to be there as representatives of the diversity of humankind. In fact, their jealousy was rather titillating.

And so on the altar of love, ego and spirit, bride and groom, male and female, past and present, quality and quantity, dependence and independence, knowing and trust, control and discipline and even life and death awaited their sacred union. In the distillation of love’s purest light, they began their union and transmutation: possessiveness into cherishing; envy into admiration and perceived loss into readiness to receive, etc. Years of healing had prepared me for this day and I stood tall in honor of all humanity.

In the distance a door of white light appeared. Fearing it was my final door, I hesitated before taking another step. If this was to be my death, then so be it. I no longer wanted to put off the inevitable anymore. And so I passed through it into a golden landscape where bride and groom walked along. In each hand they held the arms of their golden child. They danced and played in joyful ecstasy.

Metaphor, dream or vision, it didn’t matter for all inevitably belonged to the realm of God. The child was our child, everyone’s child for everyone had played some part in its creation, delivery and nurturing. This was my way of giving back to a world that had given me/us so much. My heart sang songs of untold joy.

‘Just play the game, Mike. It’s easy’ my friend had said. I had played the game, my game! And in doing so knew what it felt to be real. It wasn’t for me to talk about his anybody’s game for that matter. But now as sight cleared I began I saw that life was far more than just a game. It was also a metaphor for a journey that took lifetimes of repeated experiences to fully savor, nourish, appreciate and understand. It wasn’t just about making money and possessing material things, but about learning how to love oneself, humanity and creation that made us truly in His image – not the other way around!

© Michael J. Varma, The Gong Show, 2011 –

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Michael J. Varma and The Gong Show with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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