Third Eye

When you walk into a room and you see the guy you agreed to go on a date with and you get that feeling that you shouldn’t go on that date, DON’T GO!  Don’t say, ‘well, I already committed so I’ll follow through’ DON’T GO!  That’s your third eye, people!  It’s called INTUITION!”  The ball-busting yoga instructor shouted at the Friday night Vinyasa flow class that ran an hour and a half longer than its scheduled time.  Never in my life have I experienced a yoga class that powerful, that moving.  I lay there, in the candlelit studio, on my drenched yoga mat, tears streaming down my face, palms facing the sky as the passionate yogi spoke about love, politics, peace and most importantly, one’s intuition – our penal gland, our instinct, our third eye.  I reflected on all the times that I ignored my uncanny ability to sense things, that so many recognize as a phenomenon but as the yogi so ardently pointed out, it’s not some mysterious skill – it’s very, very real.

The point is that, as I move forward, I do so with the intent of following my instinct, which is to do things differently than I have in the past.  This isn’t to say I regret a lot of my past decisions as I don’t regret much in life but I could sit here and give you a long bullet list of things that would have resulted in more favorable outcomes had I listened to my intuition.  For example, had I listened more intently to my intuition, I would have recognized David’s substance abuse problem long before we even discussed engagement.  What does this mean, you may ask?  Does it mean we wouldn’t have gotten married?  Not necessarily as I don’t speak about the third eye as if it’s some future predicting mechanism.  It’s more simply a reflection of my own actions in reference to an uncontrollable reality.  I walked around with a blindfold on for longer than I am probably aware of – a blindfold that also deliberately, opaquely covered my third eye.  I created an environment that was favorable to what Lindsay wanted to believe, not what truly was.

The day I finally took that blindfold off was an immensely difficult day.  It’s similar to learning how to walk without braces for the first time or living life underground only to be suddenly surrounded by fluorescent light.  It’s also frightening because how does one sincerely know the difference between reality and denial when he or she has been living in denial for so long?  I was like a deer in headlights.  I trusted the braces to keep me upright and just like that I was all on my own.  I felt like I had walked outside and stood there, my head toward the sky and my wide-open eyes staring, painfully at the sunshine for hours.  The days that followed, I began to see beauty that unrecognizably sped by in a blur before and I began to “smell the roses,” for lack of better words.  You know that saying, “Practice makes perfect?”  Regularly seeing life through the naked eye, thankfully, becomes default as long as one remains conscious.  Utilizing that third eye becomes a habit, as well, reliant on remaining conscious.

I willingly set that shit on fire – the blindfold and my life.  And in my mind’s eye, I watch for those that fan the flames.




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