Bigger than this


I tossed and turned last night.  I wanted to keep reading a book I was so close to finishing, but it was way past my bedtime.  I begrudgingly shut off the lights and closed my eyes.

Deep in thought, couldn’t get comfortable – dog (of course) was staring at me.  I flopped about like a fish on the deck of a boat.

Then from nowhere (in mid-flop), bigger than my irritation at not finding sleep, a sense of assurance.  A voice.  I was being given answers to questions I wasn’t asking.  I was not being ‘still’ but I was knowing God.

“Yes, there is more than this”  “Look for the bigger picture”  “Find me”. 

There were words and shame on me for paraphrasing whoever was speaking, but … how to explain?  It was more of a feeling than a dialogue, although, there were words.  I’m conveying here the gist of those words.

Almost felt like whatever was ‘talking’ to me was lovingly chuckling.  The way we might as we watch a toddler try to accomplish something the hard way because they don’t know better.  Or because the item is too big for them. 

There were no other prerequisites other than ‘getting’ that there was ‘more’.

PHEW!  Because I am of no particular religion, I consider myself ‘spiritual’.  I believe in a power greater than me and I believe in love.  That’s about all I can swear on my life that I believe to be true for me.  I don’t want to fake a Faith in something so important just because I’m afraid to go to hell.

Now, whether that was God, or some internal, wise facet of myself speaking, (although, I don’t know what the heck she was doing up past our bedtime) it was very clear that I needed to hear that message.

This morning, I was peering into my pantry and my eyes took in the canned goods.  I saw my pantry in a different light.  A dimmer light that I knew not so very long ago.  The thought of being jobless crossed my mind out of the blue and suddenly, the cans didn’t seem like enough.  I was meting out meals in my head. 

On the drive to work, I was taking in the buildings, the cars, an emergency vehicle approached, lights flashing and sirens screaming – another voice. “This is not what it’s all about’.

Another assurance there’s more.  This time here – important and valuable, but a place we’re passing through to get to another destination none the less.

Why these thoughts??

Either I’m losing that final marble or …

I know I have an overactive imagination (or do I? ‘ Who’s to say?).  I had a vision as I started my drive to work this morning of being very sick.  Alone. Nic a young adult and I was dying.  Going to work anyway.

I wasn’t in a somber mood – no idea why such a morbid thought would play itself out in my head.

The other night had my mind playing out my death-bed scene.  Nic asks if I’m afraid to die.  I tell him no. “I’m not afraid to die, I’m afraid I’m going to miss you!”

And that’s it in a nut shell for me.  The good times here are SO good.  I am SO glad I was born.  I love the colours, the sounds, the creatures, the smells, the endless things to discover and I love dreaming and loving and laughing.

And there’s something bigger than THIS?  I’m in.

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About debaucherysoup

I've traveled 4 continents, affording me experiences and adventures to last a lifetime. Most important was the exposure to other cultures, beliefs and lifestyles. I'm also mom to one of the most amazing human beings I know.

Posted on November 28, 2012, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.

  1. It’s big alright. After over 50 years of constant, active curiosity all I can say is that I am now finally becoming aware of how complex and wondrous it all is.

    Frightening too, sometimes, but those times pass.

  2. I have to take my real fear to the bare bone minimum, it helps me feel less stress. I fear being homeless and living in a box. So- I put myself there, what do I need? food, water (from a loving stranger) But my favorite thing, bar none, is my hot sock! a rice filled sock microwaved to keep my feet warm at night. I see my homeless version of self, using tiny pebbles heated on an open flame in an old tin can, and dumped into a sock…perfect. Just the basics.I have no percieved fear of death.

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