6 Things That Happen After Your Spiritual Awakening


Let me start by assuring you that there are definitely more than six things that happen after you undergo a spiritual awakening of some kind or other. These are what I've personally found to be some of the most common and what I've personally experienced. Let's unite through insight.

1. You become extremely sensitive (or more so than you previously were) to the energies around you. There are certain people you find it hard to be around and places you would rather avoid. It's not a personal thing; it's an energy thing. This is something that others not on a similar wavelength as you will easily understand. Often others laugh if you mention your sensitivity, excuse yourself from a situation because you're not feeling the "energy" is right for you at that moment in time.

2. You learn that talks about consciousness expansion, alternate states of consciousness, manifestation, telepathy, energy, dimensions, healing, chakras, angels, etc. makes you sound a bit crazy to 99.9% of the population (99.9% is harsh, but you get it). Those of us who know and believe in the unseen forces operating within our world understand that there are things that no amount of logic or rational thinking can explain - and we see no reason why it should need to, anyway. At a restaurant talking to a likeminded friend about that telepathic message you sent the other night? Yes, the table next to you will give you strange looks. You're still learning to embrace it, but to also be cautious with voicing your spiritual insights in public. They're in another state of consciousness, different from yours - not better or worse, just different (don't tell them that - it won't help your case). You've learned that with hard-facts sort of people (especially those with closed minds), it's sometimes best to agree to disagree, remind yourself that it isn't personal and move on. Also, it's through these challenging conversations that you realise even more how great a thing it is for a human being to approach life with an open, non-discriminative mind. 

3. You've broken old patterns. In moments of doubt or desperation, you find yourself falling back, but once broken, always broken. It can be people you used to see, places you used to frequent, music you used to listen to, films you used to watch, the amount of alcohol you used to consume, how often you used to go out (or stay in). For some reason, there are things you feel do not serve you anymore. Close friends and family might even think that you're morphing into another person altogether. In reality, you know you're reclaiming the truest part of your humanity, and because of that that you listen more closely to what your heart and mind tells you. Sometimes you fall back, experience overwhelming moments of existential despair and anxiety, but your unwavering faith helps you back up again. If anything, you gradually embrace those moments when you do fall back; they no longer consume you now, but remind you that you are also human. Like monks who keep a vice or two, it's good to be reminded that not only are you Divine, but you're also Human with a capital H. 

4. You're more aware of synchronicities. Patterns, numbers, faces, names. The relationship between the external environment and you as a living and breathing organism you no longer feel constitutes two separate, unrelated things, but it is something happening simultaneously - and you're more aware of your perceived past and how it has contributed to your present and how this present moment will likely influence your future. The person you met that day led you to think about this and suddenly it shifted your beliefs about that, which led you to go on this road trip and during the trip you came across an image that reminded you of a person you used to know well, and this person called you the next day. You get it. Things that were once void of meaning now have infinite possibilities. It all fits into this complex and indescribably beautiful web. Sort of. Most of the time. To you, anyway. 

5. You dread small talk and shallow conversation. Why talk small when you can talk about the Universe, wonder about the stars, our origins, discuss our pains, fears, passions? It drains your energy to talk persisently about the everyday or purely materialistic topics - you can bear it when it seems you can't escape it because it seems you've cultivated the patience of an angel, but you still find yourself wishing to talk about other things. 

6. You find it easier to forgive people. Whether they broke your heart, pushed you on the train, offended you in any way - you find that you don't react with hostility. You approach these situations from a place of understanding and compassion - because of this, you can forgive almost anyone for any harm they may have caused. You may initially suffer for the way they made you feel, and decide that they no longer have a place in your life, but in your heart you forgive - even if they never end up knowing it. “Tout comprendre c’est tout pardonner” is the original French saying, which translated is: to understand all is to forgive all. It's a beautiful thing, really. 

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Nothing Ever Stays & Everything Always Goes


"O dark dark dark," wrote T.S. Eliot in his Four Quartets, "they all go into the dark." Where to? What is this darkness where everything is constantly going? If Time were a person, they would be the kind to make most people feel nervous, self-conscious and uncomfortable. If somebody were to talk about them around us, our energies would likely flop and we would be eager to change the subject. We have to ask ourselves: what is it about the nature of time that can make us feel so anxious, so eager to forget it exists? It is part of our human condition to consider the many peculiarities involved in existence - the nature of time being one of the most curious of these. 

The fact that everything comes and goes is an observable reality of life. The only permanence in the world is impermanence. There are immediate and gradual changes constantly taking place - and in general we tend to be more conscious of the former. It seems that the older we grow, the more we feel we do not have enough of time when we have a great many things to do or too much of it when we are idle. Post-childhood, it eventually dawns on us that time is constantly passing, that the moment we hold onto something, are convinced that it is ours - the feeling, the person, the moment - it flees our grasp. The realisation that all is changing often brings about a gradual hysteria within us, who were previously too involved in life to give this any serious thought. To those who have reflected on the inescapable reality that everything is in constant flux, that all of our loved ones will one day pass away, that everything we have ever loved and hated will no longer be, that everything we do, say or believe we are will soon fade away, know that these reflections have their consequences, to the disciplined and undisciplined mind alike. 

As children, we were much too absorbed in the fruits of innocence, the ecstasy of immediate existence which seems eternal and undying, to be acutely aware of the inevitable passing of our youth. In future, the mind can suffer terribly - often it does, until desperation leads us to either evolve by penetrating deeply into the complexities involved in the human anxieties which have plagued humankind for centuries and are nearly all rooted in the "problem" of time, or alternatively, we do not evolve, but rather drown in a sea of existential despair every now and then and remain chained to suffering. 

But it is not time itself which we seek to recover, nor add as a desirable ingredient to our plate of life; rather, the more we dig into this question, we find that it is a feeling that we miss - a state of being entirely absorbed in the play of life, without being conscious of it being anything other than that. We have all been children, and, no longer being children, we can easily remember what such a state felt like. That is why children are fascinating to us and why they themselves cannot yet understand why they are so fascinating. It is also why looking back to that season of life makes us feel simultaneously happy and profoundly sad because it was so lovely and it is so irretrievable. 

What do we do, then, about the question of time? We have to turn to direct experience. Only then, past the initial intellectual comprehension that everything is always changing, can we lead our lives in such a way as to free ourselves from the suffering that awareness of time so often brings. When we adopt an understanding attitude toward the impermanence of all things, including our own thoughts, no longer are we consumed by what goes on in and out of our minds. Even when our minds are in states of agony or pain caused by obsessive thoughts of the future and/or past, this profound insight assures us that even this will pass. You see, feel, hear, touch and taste it all as it comes, never pushing anything away, but not becoming attached to that which inevitably fades, because you know that nothing ever stays and everything always goes.

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A Poem to the Wind


majestic wind,

do you sing, shout or speak

the sun is shining on your lake

and our dreams are like the clouds you take

 

your birds dance around trees

their lips whisper delightful melodies

we have always understood, but forgotten

the child a mother holds

exists for eternity upon your eternal shores

 

you carry secrets of the times 

whisper them to the ones who walk alone

we drink from your daffodils in April

and forget what it is like to exist in October 

 

we will learn from you 

that still or moving, things are changing 

life, the endless river of pain and delight  

the wind carries everything