I'm not here: our lives in absence

Sarah and I had planned a beach trip with her family for months now. We made all the arrangements to be away for a week before my international travels begin. I set up the business to function without me, got all the daily loose ends of life arranged for my disappearance, then unexpected circumstances kept us from leaving town. Everyone went ahead without us.

We experienced what our lives are like in our absence. The people, the places, the experiences we encountered all seemed surreal as if our real lives were taking place elsewhere and we were merely surrogate fill ins; impostors of our own experience. It felt as if we weren't really living through these experiences, we were just voyeurs peering at them through a glass wall. We were in part, invisible. (Reminds me of the classic Christmas movie, "It's a Wonderful Life".)

Even the inanimate objects of our home seemed more lifeless than usual. It was as if for the first time I was able to see, even our possessions have a life of their own, derived from our presence and the possibility we bring to them. As I entered my life as the silent observer, those possibilities didn't exist for my belongings. They only sat in the quiet of our empty house waiting for the stirring of our return.

This reminded me of How our own lives derive their animation from the connection we have to the Source of all life. Without this connection, our purpose sits dormant without action. Should we derive our life from any other source, we become zombies at best. We live a dead life of separation and disconnect. We become like the coffee cup holding pens on a desk instead of being utilized for the purpose we were created for.

The human sense of place is a subtle yet strong internal equilibrium. Whenever we feel out of place, we realize how connected to our surrounding environment we really are.

It really is a wonderful life. hello beach.