My Turn To Wake Up

The months prior to my leave of absence were mentally and emotionally draining. I was unhappy going to work, and anxious and restless with just being. I consumed my every hour with work, family or friends. When there was no work or other people to deal with, I became more and more anxious. I hated the idea of just resting. Once my physical body took a break, my mind would start racing. I hid behind work, family and friends to avoid dealing with bigger issue.

I was unhappy, but my life was good. There was nothing major to complain about. I had a job, decent health (minus one or two kidney stones), healthy family and friends, roof over my head, paying all my bills, etc. In a nutshell, I was content, but not happy. I began to realize the anxiety and restleness I felt was actually my soul was calling for help; telling me there was more to my life than what I was doing. I started to notice my life was merely an unfulfilling routine. I was living everyday to task in fear of making wrong decisions, if I veered off course.

I preoccupied myself with work and family because I was in denial. I didn't want to deal with the question, "What do I have to change in my life to be truly happy? Was it my job? Relationships with family and friends?" It eventually caught up to me, but I'm glad it did. It was my turn to wake up.

Hell, even a random stranger knew it was time for me to wake up. A couple a months ago, around May, I walked into one of my favorite book stores in the city, East West Books. I was just browsing, like I normally do, when a random hippie-looking dude in his early 60's, began to strike up a conversation with me.


He complemented me on my fresh new tattoo, a lotus flower with an ohm sign on my back, and asked, "So, I'm assuming you're on your path?"

Taken off guard, I gave him a puzzled look.

He pointed to my back and said, "Your tattoo."

It took me a minute to understand, and then I responded, "Kinda."

He shook his head and said, "No, you're either on it or you're not."

"No, it's just that I haven't figured out all the pieces yet." I responded defensively.

He said, "That's bullshit. What do you want to do?"

"I'm not sure." I replied.

He asked again, this time with more command, "What do you want to do?"

I started getting nervous, but not because the strange hippie dude was getting loud. Instead, it was because I didn't have an answer. I began fidgeting, looking away, and crossing my arms and legs. He quickly pulled my arms apart and ordered me to stop.

He looked into my eyes like he was peering into a peep hole, touched my head and said, "Don't answer from here." Then he pointed to my heart and said, "Answer from here."

It took every fiber of my being not to break down in tears. I started fidgeting again. And once again, he told me to stop. After a long pause, I said, "I want to go away. I need to leave all of this. I'm just tired of all of it. I don't know maybe travel for a bit, maybe even move somewhere out of New York for a while."

"Then do it. Go!" he said.

I replied, "It's not that easy. I can't pick up and just go. What if I make the wrong decision?"

He said, "Why not? What's the worse that can happen? You come back?"

He continued to stare at me, smiled and said:

Look at you. Your parents did a great job at raising you. They gave you everything they never had and more. They protected you from all the bad things in the world, but now all their fears have now become your fears. That's not you. You know how many people get sick and eventually die because they don't listen to their heart? Do you want that to be you?

I felt like a child being scolded for not following directions. I looked down, shook my head and said, "No."

"Then listen to your heart, follow you're soul's path and go. If you don't go, you'll just be another pretty girl with a tattoo on her back." he responded.

I simply nodded my head in agreement, letting it all sink it. I couldn't believe it was that obvious. Even when I wasn't thinking about it, the unhappiness and anxiety was looming over my spirit.

The last piece of advice the hippie dude gave me was on a card he told me to keep. It said, "Relax. God's in control." He followed that by saying it didn't matter what I believed in, but to simply trust that it's all taken care of. He left by telling me he was a regular at the bookstore and playfully warned that he never wanted to see me there again.

Now, that's what I call a rude awakening.