I was awake.
I know I was awake when you stormed into the room and gave me your regular over excited morning kiss. And a hug. Always that hug. I know I was awake because I remember your smell.
But was I aware? Am I ever aware of the totality of things that happen around me?
How can I call myself fully aware when I can only perceive through predefined and most of the times limited instruments and sensors. Limited color spectrum and limited distance view. Limited endurance and not exactly efficient under too much cold or too much warmth. I cannot even think when I am too tired and I cannot even sleep when I overly hyped. I can only call my awareness a liability.
But then again, you don’t see with your eyes, you perceive with your mind. That’s the inner, right?
Equipped with a brain since birth, a most powerful tool with vast capabilities and yet, so fragile and underused and I still feel unaware of the quintessence. The real thing. The ultimate “juice” and the true evolutionary meaning. And on top of my daily existential struggling I have to face an ever hungry subconscious that absorbs data in millions and gives back merely a dozen, and that if the day was good. My dreams are out of the question too as they are only end up being a gob of twisted interpretations and contorted aftermath of everything that my rascal subconscious decides to resurface.
And then, with a snap of your fingers, I’m back. Mere seconds have passed and it felt like ages. Again, awareness of time is questionable. All is a matter of perspective. All is relevant.
As is your figure looming over me in the early morning light. It is relevant to my awareness. Although I often find myself handicapped by our human shortcomings in relation to the big bad world and its mysteries, I can feel aware of the things that lie inside. I am aware of you. And me in relation to you. And you make me feel and in a way you make me being aware. Maybe that’s the meaning of it all. Maybe the level our awareness is low by default because that’s all we need to change everything, starting from inside.
Maybe we are unaware of what it means to be aware.
The Renaissance Man