Cadence (Chapter 7, Zero Hour).

“Every life transition has its “zero hour,” that moment when everything that came before it is different from everything that comes after.”

This was the quote that did it. The words that threw me over the edge. The prophetic statement that foreshadowed everything that was to come.

As if it were some traumatic event that changed the course of history, I can remember exactly what I was doing before and after I wrote those words, exactly how I felt when I saw them and where I paused to desperately post them for everyone to see. They described everything I was going through at the moment in a simple statement, everything I was sensing and feeling but still had no words to articulate. Little did I know that what I was going through in that moment in time was but a fleeting glimpse into the events that unfolded in the months ahead.

At that moment, I felt so euphoric that I thought I had died.

Somehow. Supernaturally. Metaphorically. Spiritually.

That was just the beginning.

This idea of a UNION weighed heavily on my spirit and became a theme in my life that is unraveling still to this day. I suppose it was always there – preying upon me in the shadows and dancing with me in the light – waiting for the day I recognized it in my mirror. Upon recognition and ignition, my Higher Self stopped me in my tracks and made me fall to my knees in reverence with tears flowing, and my spirit soaring and soaking in the light that radiated from my being.

cadence: music A progression of chords moving to a harmonic close, point of rest, or sense of resolution.

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There was so much light, I wouldn’t be surprised if I had, alone, projected the rainbow that rose above my view in that moment. It cascaded across the sky and revealed words imprinted on a fork lift that sat motionless in my parking lot for a week. BIG LIFT, it said. I hadn’t noticed until that moment and those words are forever etched into my soul.

BIG LIFT, indeed. Yet, ironically, I was plastered on the floor trembling with tears pooling around my throne as I fell. Grow ‘Til Tall, on Jonsi’s album, GO QUIET, was blasting from my speakers.

You’ll know, when’s time to go on
You’ll really want to grow and grow till tall
They all, in the end, will fall

You’ll know, when’s time to go on
You’ll really want to grow and grow till tall
They all, in the end, will fall

You’ll know, when’s time to go on
You’ll really want to grow and grow till tall
They all, in the end, will fall

Grow till tall, they all, in the end, will fall
They, in the end, will turn and fall

You’ll know, you’ll fall
You’ll know, you’ll know
You’ll know, you’ll know
You’ll know

You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know
You’ll, know

I am not sure what it was that did it. Was it a word? A text from God? A serendipitous moment with a musician that looked me in the eyes as if to say, I SEE YOU? Was it magic that infested every bone and flowed through every vein? Maybe I was something much greater than I first assumed. Aren’t we all?

It was July 19th, 2010. I had died and risen again. I had perished an old sense of self, I had experienced an ego death where my old identity came crashing to the floor like that of dead skin or woman’s water breaking as she transcends into labor. I lay there on the floor rebirthing a new identity, of which I knew not. A new identity I didn’t know for five years to come.

Everything in that moment had changed. I was in love. With something. With someone. With myself. With life. With everything. As one whole.

Every judgement. Every worry. Every fear. Disappeared.

It shouldn’t have come as a complete shock to my system. For months prior, years even, I was being warned in dreams and visions to prepare for this moment. Prepare for something bigger. Prepare for this BIG LIFT. Angels on high swiftly told me to get my act together and straighten out my ways, for I was being prepped for the meeting of a lifetime.

They would swoop in and pack my bags. They cleaned up my beer bottles lying around the house. They adorned me with jewels and they applied make-up to my eyes, the likes of which would make Cleopatra writhe in envy. They sent me visions, they sent me quotes, they sent me firm messages from beyond, and they sounded off in reality as well. Sign after Sign revealed itself. Synchronicity after Synchronicity composed a symphony. Knowledge poured into my brain at the speed of light. And unconventional wisdom was pulled from my being like the crumbling of teeth.

Preparation began in the physical, but still I shouted at the sky, “Prepare for WHAT?!”

Even though I was frustrated about what lay around the corner, I still was gleaming as euphoria rose up through my body in waves of almost unbearable heat. From the tips of my toes to the crown that now lay upon my head.

I waved to everyone. I waved to the sky on many occasions, thanking those looking down. I waved to helicopters. I waved into the abyss as I traversed this new footing and new unknown.

I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. Someone was watching my every move.

The undulating waves of knowledge, wisdom, insight, signs, synchronicity, and heat were too much for my soul, body and mind to handle at the initial onset. I had literally lost my mind.

The angels on high were looking down with regret a few months later, as I lay in the hospital gurney only to tell of tales that no one could possibly understand, let alone believe. She had gone too far. The timing was off. Even angels get it wrong sometimes. They are not perfect.

Or maybe it was a test of my bravery, my intuition, my sense of self, my umph, my cha, my love, my universe, my soul, my everything from the beginning of time.

In which case, I aced that with flying colors.

The whole world watched as I drown, but the heavens and earth stopped to take a bow as I took my first steps over the edge.

Where I lay, the waterfalls had descended and washed ashore. They draped my body, falling over every contour, mimicking the source from which it came and warming my cold, stunned flesh. Every drop soothed my aching muscles and rapid-fire brain. But nothing could sooth the complete and utter defeat I felt deep within my soul.

How did I end up here? How did I fall? How was I still alive? Was I clearly slipping away? Was this all an illusion? How did I end up on the cold, hard ground with warm water running over me like a cruel mind game, as if to abruptly and mockingly wash away every single dream and memory I’d had in my entire life. As if to reiterate the harsh reality revealed to me minutes before?

I slipped between the rocks below and landed in a pool of healing waters that seemed to come alive, trying to revive my lost and broken spirit. I lay fetaly, curling up as if to protect myself from the realization that my soul’s deepest desires had not come to pass at the appointed time.

Up until that moment of impact, I had been running and flying free. My freedom and calvary had been ripped from my grasp the moment I fell.

And I sobbed.

I sobbed as the world laughed. Afterall, they knew how the story ended.

I didn’t actually jump. And I never planned on it…not alone. We all knew that. We were watching it as it unfolded. I slid instead. Down a cold, wet wall, scraping my back along the tiles as I collapsed to my knees onto the shower floor into a wet and naked pile of mind, body and crushed spirits. I let the water submerge and heal my body as I cried tears that had been welling up inside of me for years….possibly my whole life. No, maybe lifetimes. Actually, make that eons. Every single dream, imagination, belief, perception, song, intuition, and longing that I had ever acquired in my life suddenly came to a screeching halt and filtered down the drain.

The psychiatrist started to walk out of my bedroom but something stopped him. He glanced back at me, as if I were a lost girl swaddled like a newborn in hospital linens. He had just finished delivering a life sentence – Bipolar One, with Psychotic Features – just as my Mother had experienced most of my young life.

Was there anything he could say to make that sting less? Was saying anything just a lost cause? Did I even understand the gravity of the situation and what transpired the night and months before? Or was there some truth in the words that spewed out of my mouth during the week-long evaluation?

There was care and concern in his eyes. All he could manage to blurt out to comfort me was, ‘These meds won’t change your essence ya know…you’ll still be just as bubbly and energetic as you are now.’

I just stared into nothingness, because deep down, I knew better.

He put his head down and walked out the door, reluctantly shutting it behind him…leaving me alone to process everything that was just said. Outside my door he taped a note that said, ‘’Call. Don’t Fall.” These were signs specifically for the suicidal patients.

I was anything but suicidal.

I was alone.

I was awakening.

But labeled psychotic.

And the whole world was watching.

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