Lifting Off to Freedom
After an intense yet uplifting Emotion Code session, (1) I walked around feeling a bit goofy, smiling for no reason, loose limbed and light. It felt wonderful since I typically feel heavy, earthbound, constrained by walking pain.
Huh. That’s nice. Not sure how it relates to feeling less pain, but I’ll make a note. And then I went on about my day.
But that phrase was running like a background mantra.
I don’t care what anyone thinks. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I don’t care what anyone thinks.
After awhile, when I realized it wasn’t going to go away, I accepted it for the poke that it was. What does that mean? Why don’t I care? What exactly is it that I don’t care about?
I’ll be ruminating upon this for days, no doubt. My first thought is that this “I don’t care” attitude is…freeing. I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks. As the saying goes, “What you think of me is none of my business.”
More to the point, I recognized a different kind of freedom. Mind-freedom. Not only do I not care what “you” think, I don’t care what I think.
I’m looking from side to side, as if to find that nag. Searching my mind, looking up left and right, as people do when trying to remember something.
I mentally shrug and give up for now. In keeping with the theme, I don’t care where it’s gone. I don’t miss it. I don’t want it back.
Because, I realize, along with the freedom comes peace. I’m at peace. Not caring what others think of me, or think of anything, especially if they’re trying to convince me of something I already disbelieve, is so restful.
Truly not caring is unexplored territory in the landscape of my beingness. I approach a bit cautiously, but curiously, wondering what lies beyond this little hill over here, that valley (a depression?) over there.
I’m not feeling malicious or pugnacious about “not caring.” I recognize I have compassion in addition to an ordinary level of social politeness; that hasn’t gone away and isn’t likely to. It occurs to me that this is how a good nurse treats patients: with infinite compassion and courtesy, but also a kind of reserve. Dispassionate caring, which, while sounding oxymoronic, probably describes it as well as anything.
It’s a bit difficult to build a box around this feeling and slap a single-word label upon it for everyone’s ease of definition, including mine.
I realize that along with the freedom and the peacefulness is an absence. The absence of fear. I’m not afraid of being judged—found lacking—by self or by others.
I don’t think this is a “state” I could have forced myself into. I more or less just fell in, landing gently as a hot air balloon after a successful, exhilarating jaunt into the sky.
I can’t wait for the next flight up, lifting off to more freedom.