Two to three days ago I stood in my bathroom, bare topped and was intending to look, from the side, at how my hair sat pulled up onto my head. I had a business meeting in London where image was important.  As I turned side on with a mirror in my left hand to reflect against the static mirror on the wall to my right, the first thing I noticed was the loose skin around my chin and jaw – a sign I that I would never see 21 again.

 
But as I stood and absorbed the sight, suddenly I felt I was no longer looking at my body in the mirror. While I could see my naked breasts, a sign of my femininity in this lifetime reflected back at me in the mirror, it felt I could suddenly see beyond the visual. I studied again, perplexed by the body that was standing there. I looked at my head and thought I could sense something masculine about my jaw – perhaps an echo of my father. And then it struck me that this physical form, this body, was just the vehicle that carried my ancient spirit in this lifetime. As I allowed that moment to grow and flourish, I saw that my wounded spirit was burning very brightly – it was almost untouchable. As I saw the spirit that held this body upright, and held the mirror in my hand while I could view its ageing host, I saw the beauty that was beyond the body. I saw the soft, warm, true nature of not just my spirit, but of the timelessness of life’s cycle of birth and death.  I felt a tenderness, a sudden surge of forgiveness, an acceptance of whatever form my spirit had taken on in this incarnation.
I didn’t want the moment to end.  The body’s wounds and its mental and emotional traumas in this lifetime had been great teachers. Lessons that, once unwelcome by my blind consciousness, had nevertheless caused my spirit to sing. They had given me all the fuel I would ever need to wake up and cause others to wake up. My mission, now more clear than ever before: to share of my journey and the insights that have led my subtle spirit to manifest and show how to return to our source – to the joy and wonder we were born with as children, and transform my corner of this crazy world we live in. This is my mission.
The whole event took no more than about a minute or two to hit my consciousness and etch itself into my life. And it wasn’t the first recognition of my spirit. But it was an enduring one. One where I looked with my “eyes” and saw what I saw. I didn’t have to seek or to focus. I just had to allow this psychic opening to be.
I determined to record this insight, this almost indescribable sentient experience, as best I could so I could always remember it.  As I sat in the grassy enclosure in the sunshine at Stainsby Folk Festival last Saturday, these words flowed from my pen, threatening at any moment to not quite capture the essence of the experience, and therefore interrupted only by my frequent need to break away and re-experience that clarity and wonder, so I could describe it as fluidly and as clearly as possible.  I hope it leaves you with a sense of your own spirit and wonder. 
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