Profound Awareness in Casual Moments
In that moment at age 5, I felt God. I remembered who I was and where I came from… who we all are and where we all come from.
There’s this casual moment from my early childhood that’s stayed with me for over 30 years now. Perhaps the fact that I still remember it so vividly indicates that it was in fact, not casual at all.
When I was a little girl, maybe around 5 years old, I remember riding in the car with mom around dusk. We were in her 1980’s maroon Pontiac Grand Am…a car I despised even as a kid. Something about the shape of it felt aggressive and a tad angry to me.
I sat quietly in my seat, looking out the window lost deep in thought, as was usual for me (& still is). Much like my 5 year old, Bruce, I hated being interrupted by my parents when I was in this flow state with my imagination. Even the gentlest, most well-meaning, “Whatcha thinking about, honey?” would make my blood boil. Grownups aren’t used to little people having big, complex thoughts. We tend to assume they need us to prompt them into meaningful connection, when in fact, many kids are so tapped in to their spiritual selves and the magic of the Universe that our kind invitations for conversation only intercept these Divine moments of connection to Source & self.
On this particular evening, I gazed out at the multitude of cars whizzing by on the highway. I saw another gross Pontiac. Noticed a Jeep Wrangler (my then dream car— nope, still don’t have one). Before long, I’d settled into a sort of meditative state, eyes tracking certain cars until they’d disappear while others just became a blur of visual noise in the background.
Whether it was two minutes or 20 minutes later, I can’t be sure, but suddenly I stopped seeing the cars as individual makes and models, and instead as this connected string of lights. Headlights stacked upon more headlights as far as I could see.
I felt a jolt— an immense feeling of love and light. This deep connection to my role as a human, as a daughter, as a granddaughter. An unfathomably intense awareness of all the other humans out there just beyond my window…
All of the other daughters and granddaughters, all of the fathers, mothers, sons, grandsons, cousins, aunts, uncles, stepmoms, stepdads, and friends… all of the dog people and cat people… the teachers, the doctors, the artists, the lawyers, the writers, the mechanics…
I was struck by the simple yet profound fact that the world was filled with so many people exactly like me and yet so different from me. I envisioned the variety of families and energies that occupied each one of those vehicles as they raced past us on the road.
I could see into each car, feel the thoughts of the other children, hear the words spoken between couples, move to the beat of the music that a solo traveler was blasting. It was like the interior light was on in every single car that surrounded us and I could see right in to each little private snow globe. Vignette after vignette.
In that moment at age 5, I felt God. I remembered who I was and where I came from… who we all are and where we all come from.
Love. Light. Magic.
In the swirling chaos of the world.
In the midst of growing accustomed to the routine of shuttling back and forth between the houses of my newly divorced parents.
In the shallow wants and desires of a little girl before Christmas.
In the preoccupation with whether people thought I was a good girl.
In all the hurt in world that didn’t make sense.
I felt and I saw the chord of light that runs through each and every human on the planet and that connects our spirits and souls with one another and with God.
A little girl who didn’t really go to church or believe in Source.
A little girl who wore a tutu and leotard and practiced ballet in her living room but never once felt brave enough to attend a class.
A little girl who loved Barney & Friends.
Struck with a moment of pure unity and connection to The Cosmos.
I became so excited by my “discovery” that I gently pulled myself out of it and proclaimed:
“In every one of those cars is another person or family. They’re all talking about something or singing something or planning something or worrying about something right now. They’re coming from somewhere and going somewhere else. They have homes and jobs, and lives, and people who care about them. They love someone. They need something. They’re all people. Just like you and me, Mom.”
I can’t remember how my mom responded— a deep, spiritual soul herself, I’m sure it was something affirming, loving, and grounding. I don’t know what the rest of that car ride looked like or how long it lasted. That casual and profound moment didn’t mark the beginning of a transformational journey where I became a genius child or young spiritual guru.
In fact, I spent a lot of my life closing myself off from spirituality… I wanted to find that magical connection and sense of oneness that I felt that night in our old Pontiac, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t in a church or a temple (I have quite a diverse family tree and visited many places of religious worship). It wasn’t something that could be found in a text. It couldn’t be forced.
It wasn’t something I knew how to communicate again, perhaps until right at this very moment.
And so no one really understood what I had known so intimately for those few moments. No one really understood what I had felt coursing through my veins and deep inside my bones.
No one knew how to help me find God.
And it hurt to have that hole but not have any idea of how to fill it. So I covered it up and kept it buried for decades.
I pulled my hands out of the mud, washed my little fingernails of the holy, sacred blood that lays deep within the earth and proceeded to live right there on the surface among the green grass and daffodils. I figured out how to be a good girl. I kept most of my deep, transcendental thoughts to myself. I didn’t keep looking for God because it felt too impossible a task.
Until now.
I’m 36 and in the last few years, I’ve had my share of moments that rival this one from my early childhood. I’ve felt the miracles around me and have seen signs from the Divine.
I’m mostly comfortable speaking my truth. Usually compelled to share my desires, curiosities, or things I’m learning or feeling called to.
And I can tell you one thing— it’s not that we’ll never find what we’re looking for when we’re actively chasing it, because often, going after what you want with clarity is a driving force in manifesting it. But we’ll certainly never find what we’re looking for if we bury it and keep it covered up so that the Light can’t shine on it.
I’ve learned that the best way to illuminate our purpose, our gifts, and the meaning we’re all searching for here on Earth is to surrender to our flow and remain open enough to let the Light in.
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Thank you for sharing. Amazing, profound and inspiring to me. Thanks again 💕