Letters to a New Generation

I woke up one morning with a strange feeling. Maybe it was the remaining emotion from a quickly forgotten dream, or maybe it was a feeling left over from the previous night's contemplation. Whatever it was, I need to describe it.

My eyes felt closed, but I think they must have been at least half-open. The room was dark, I know. I was awake. I felt unusually alert. Not the anxious or paranoid kind of alert. Just the awake kind.

There were soft blankets piled around me, but even without them I would have felt warm. I felt almost untouchable that morning and ready to take on anything. Not the macho, fighting, all-or-nothing kind of victorious "take on". Just the accepting kind. I would do anything at all without protest, and I'd be content doing it.

I felt like I was truly myself in those few long minutes. Anything could touch my body or my mind but it wouldn't touch me. That was the difference. Deep inside me, which wasn't really deep me or inside me at all, but me wholly, there was an unpenetrable sheen of energy, of light, or of diamond. Sparkling, radiant, and patiently waiting for me to accept.

I lost that feeling quickly. But I think, if I need to, I can go back to it now. And maybe we all have that special me inside ourselves. It just takes a bit of peace to notice it.