I knew something was up, last night, before I went to sleep. A dark cloud, with 'who am I?' question written all over, threatened to take over my earlier good mood. I woke up with a dream:
In Paris, wandering the streets in the Latin Quarter. Prad is with me. I am completely naked. He, at least, has a blanket over himself. We pass by some student housing, and get mocked by some of the young folks there. I want to hide and look for refuge inside a building. I know I can't stay, and need to come out eventually. I ask Prad to share his blanket with me, to hide my nakedness.
Yes, I have been feeling naked, a lot, lately. No handy persona to hide behind, any more:
Strangers ask, what do you do? I say, I am in transition. Been doing a lot of meditation. Taking time to discern what to do next. All true. Response seems to satisfy questioners. I am the one who's struggling. Wishing I could rush to an answer, quick. Yes, I am a social worker. Or, I am starting a nonprofit. Or, even more dramatic, I am becoming a nun . . .
Instead, I am to follow the path of the heart, that requires no less than complete authenticity. At present, the truth lies in not knowing what other role to play yet, beyond that of wife, spiritual seeker, and hospice volunteer. And in knowing fully naked self, moment to moment.