by keisi j

Created on: April 11, 2009   Last Updated: February 21, 2011

As children, we were not aware of the world and we were seldom even aware of ourselves.  Remember that sweet, innocent, ignorant bliss?  I remember it.  I remember it...like a dream that feels so good that, upon waking, I long to close my eyes and wander right back into it.  But I can't go back to sleep because the day is started and life is standing there on my nightstand, yelling, "Get up!  GET UP!"  As I drag myself out of bed, I secretly fantasize about someday ducking away from that gravity-standing up to Life and those incessant demands—leaving them behind me as I go off to search for peace.  Just as it’s hard to wake up in the morning and go right from deep relaxation into muscle-tensing stress, it's even harder to transition from childhood to adulthood.  We are supposed to do that gradually, but some of us aren’t so lucky.  

I was thrown into adulthood pretty abruptly.  I wasn’t expecting it and I definitely wasn’t prepared.  I was nine.  Instead of a screeching alarm clock ripping me out of sleep, it was a searing pain stealing me out of the childhood that I needed, that I deserved.  

I was sitting with my friends in a circle in the field at school.  We were picking clover blossoms and making them into wreaths to wear on our heads.  Some boys played a casual game of football around us.  The ground was soft, the sky was soft, and the sun was warm on my face.  But out of nowhere, thick, black, velvety clouds loudly marched across the sky and conquered the playful little white clouds that had been dancing about above us.  The warm blue sky retreated fearfully, and even the sun went away.  Scratchy voices started whispering as loud as they could whisper.  Even the air around me transformed and became rough like crumpled sandpaper.  It was brushing against my neck and arms, just to torment me.  I could feel it in my mouth, scraping my tongue and the insides of my cheeks with every breath I took and then again when I gave it back.  I tried to find help from my friends…my parents…my teachers….  My siblings?  No.  Every time I got near anyone, they joined the other team and came back at me with all that torture.  I was alone and I had no idea what was going on.  And so at 9, I unwillingly began my independence and my relationship with the undiluted realities of life. 

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