The Waking Moment

Have you ever noticed what your first waking thought is? Your first lucid thought? When consciousness dawns, but while you’re still a little too groggy to react to anything… I used to think that one split second, that first waking thought, was a special moment of truth. Whatever that first thought or emotion is, I try not to judge it…but to recognize it, let it sink in, and then decide what to do about it. Sometimes that first thought is as mundane as “Shit, I’m late!” Sometimes, that first thought is just a feeling of bliss, being snuggled under the covers, and a desire to stay there as long as possible. But other times, especially when I’m stressed or going through a trying time, that first waking moment can be a little much to bear. That’s because, I think, that first moment is one in which I am rather defenceless still…before my analytical and rational powers have been booted up, and I am just…me. And at heart, I am a sentimental person. During that first waking moment, sometimes, the emotions that I’ve moderated and gotten under control the previous day creep back in and it can hit like a ton of bricks.

At such times, I think of Morrie too. How the early morning hours are the hardest for him, before anyone else has woken up. And how he grieves and rages and feels self-pity…and then he detaches. I can’t remember the exact quote, but I think he told Mitch something like “I tell myself, ‘Alright, that was self-pity, and I’ve had enough of it for today. Then I look forward to all the wonderful things that are going to happen today, the lovely people who are coming to see me…like you, Mitch.”

Detachment…*thoughtful look* the way Morrie does it, is an interesting concept. Simple, yet profound. What struck me was how it’s a process Morrie goes through everyday. Acceptance of his condition was a commitment he had to renew everyday and it wasn’t a one-time deal. It was an on-going process, but because he faithfully practised it, he arose above his own suffering and still managed to bring such joy and peace to the people around him.

It may seem paradoxical but often it is true, I have experienced sadness mingled with joy, sorrow mingled with hope, and even triumph mingled with defeat. It is also simultaneously both very challenging, yet ridiculously simple to go from one emotion to the other. I think it must be interesting to those who have observed my process of going from one to another. It can happen very quickly. When I cry, I am feeling all of the depth of my sadness, but in the next moment when I say I’m alright, I really, really mean it too. And I believe it as well. There’s a certain peace that comes with knowing I have chosen rightly, at least to the best of my current knowledge. That peace abides, even in the hardest moments.

After 27 years of being Ann Yeong, I no longer think that emotional or mental anguish is a bad thing per se. As a wise and ‘mysterious’ friend reminded me yesterday, such depth of feeling is what makes me who I am. I have known that for a long time, but it is still good to be reminded of it. Pain is pain. It is merely another stimulus (though I hate the way it feels, I do!). But it is an opportunity, for me, to either grow or retreat. And I always try to choose growth.

I am not confused. I do not feel the need to seek answers. Neither am I angry. This is life, and even heavier crosses will still come my way. I am not afraid. *smile* When I look back at my life, it is always those times with the greatest suffering that I have grown the most when I accept my crosses with love.

The waking moment for today has passed as I was writing this entry. *smile* I will head out to enjoy another blue-sky day, borrow Gifts Differing from the OISE library (for my in-flight & bedtime reading for the next few days), have lunch with Ning, start WRITING (yay!) my last comprehensive paper and come back to pack for my trip to Mexico.