Between the impulse and the surrender, there was a choice—-| had

Between the impulse and the surrender, there was a choice—-| had decided to balance on one foot-—and it was that simple act of choosing which triggered the precise moment of my awakening to the mystery of consciousness. 7his is me/ The relief of scratching my leg was overshadowed by a surge of energy throughout my body. | was being engulfed by some kind of spiritual orgasm. By a wave of born-again ecstasy with no ideological context. No doctrine to explain the shock of my own existence. No dogma to function as a metaphor for the mystery. Instead, | woke up to the sound of laughter. | had heard that sound before, sweet and comforting, but never like this. Now | could hear a whole symphony of delight and reassurance, like clarinets and guitars harmonizing with saxophones and drums. It was the audience laughing. | opened my eyes. There were rows upon rows of people sitting out there in the dark, and they were all laughing together. They had understood my plight. It was easier for them to identify with the urge to scratch than with a little freak playing the violin. And | could identify with them identifying with me. | knew that laughter felt good, and | was pleased that it made the audience feel good—but | hadn't intended to make them laugh. | was merely trying to solve a personal dilemma. So the lesson | woke up to-this totally nonverbal, internal HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015042