My need for silence was intense. As a kid, I could be loud and boisterous. I started acting and performing when I was 14. So this seemingly sudden call, demand, and irresistible pull to silence in my late twenties seemed a little out of character. But, like many things related to my spiritual path, it wasn’t driven by logic or even by emotion; it was something much deeper.
I had moved to California a little over a year before, I was living in a big house with five other roommates, and I worked at a software company. And all I wanted was to live like a monk. I know I hurt my friends’ feelings more than once when I opted to stay home and meditate rather than go to a party. As you’ve heard me say before, it was a choiceless choice. I think I was in “awakening or bust” mode.
I asked my boss for a three-week sabbatical, and, amazingly, she approved. I booked my solo cabin for a silent retreat at Vajrapani Tibetan Buddhist Retreat Center in the Santa Cruz Mountains. My colleagues said I was so courageous to embark on a silent retreat by myself. I thought that was a strange response; I didn’t feel courageous. I felt relieved. I felt like I was finally giving in to my soul’s demand.
A few weeks later, a friend dropped me off and, armed with Adyashanti’s book “The Impact of Awakening” and a few other spiritual texts, I embarked on my solo silent retreat.
Almost every day, I hiked on the single-track trail that led up the mountain and abruptly stopped at someone’s private property at the top. One afternoon, at the top of the mountain, I turned around and suddenly had an overwhelming sensory experience of oneness; it was as if I was smelling, tasting, feeling, seeing, and hearing everything in the Universe at one time. It was magical.
Once I got over my initial shock and wonder, I heard Sri Mahayogi’s voice in my head: “Don’t settle for realization with a small ‘r’, and don’t get distracted by states.” I knew both he and Adyashanti would urge me to look for what is ever-present and abiding. So I leaned in. What else is here? What is underneath this experience of sensory oneness?
When I got close to my cabin, the veil lifted, and I knew; I was seeing, feeling, and being the infinite presence of Creation, Source, Consciousness. This is where words begin to fail us as humans, because it is so big and it is everything, it is in everything, and everything is a part of it. I remembered that in Judaism, the word for God is unpronounceable because God is so vast and holy. I was in the presence and awareness of this vast Holiness.
After some uncalculated time of oneness and wonder, my brain kicked in and had a reaction: “OMG, Duh!” I realized this has been here the whole time, but I had never recognized it for what it was. In fact, it had scared me a little, and I had associated the vastness with depression. So I kept dismissing it and looking past it. In retrospect, I suspect also that facing God’s immensity, I had felt extremely unworthy, and that had generated a response of depression. To some extent, to fully receive the immensity of Divine Love, we have to be willing to accept that we are worthy of it just by the sheer fact that we exist.
Once I recognized that this had been there all along and right in front of me, I had a flash of memory: Sitting on my bed at age 17, trying to write a paper for my AP English class about Albert Camus’ The Stranger. One little line in the Cliff Notes version of the book triggered what I thought of at the time as a profound altered state. I remember writing in giant capital letters in my journal, recording all that I was seeing and feeling in that moment. There’s so much that I don’t remember about that moment (and the journals are lost), but what has stayed with me is: 1) The feeling of powerful Divine Presence, 2) that there would be a time when I wouldn’t feel unworthy and insecure the way I did as a kid, and 3) that God is BIG. What I can say is that the feeling I had at 17 echoed the feeling I was having on the mountain during my silent retreat. It made me wonder how many people have these awakening experiences and also don’t know what they are.
I was in a magical cocoon for the rest of that retreat. Everything looked brighter, everything felt more connected. I felt like the world of nature around me was especially vibrant, and I was in an intimate dialogue with it.
Of course, that clarity didn’t sustain. But it was the beginning of a series of awakenings that were waiting for me.
Years later, Adyashanti told me that his teacher had warned him that many people after the first awakening want to make some sort of major life change, when really they just need to sit with the big inner change that has just happened. [Raising my hand] Guilty! But no one had warned me about this at this point in my life. After my awakening experience at 17, I tried to break up with my boyfriend at the time. After my awakening at age 28, I decided to move to LA. And you know how that went, but if you don’t remember or you missed it: The Love Story I Wasn’t Looking For.
