A moment that I’d anticipated and imagined and fantasized about for ten years finally strolled into my life on Saturday evening. I’d arrived in Chicago to participate in Andrew Harvey’s week-long course at the Institute for Sacred Activism, and some copies of my book, New Self, New World, were waiting for me at the hotel, hot off the press. Once I’d checked in, I picked up the box, carried it to my room, and opened it. There was none of the expected exhilaration, no whoop of joy, no one else around but me. What there was, though, was a perfect stillness, a spaciousness of such magic I barely noticed it. I merely drifted inside of it. The moment of pulling the first book from the box and holding it in my hand seeped into my every pore. I was empty of any great or overt emotion, but I could describe to you the quality of the light in the room, the hum of the air conditioner, details of the carpet and curtains and furniture – all of it quietly luminous, specific, and felt as a single, singing unity. And I whispered, “Thank you.” It was that simple.
Other posts
On the belly, the sternum, and the female voice
Some 30 years ago, while riding my bike through the city, I caught up at a stoplight with a car in which one of my young nieces was riding. It...
On Privilege, Truckers and Freedom
Embodied Present · On - Privilege - Truckers - And - Freedom When I was much younger I coined a word to describe myself: eleutheromaniac. It literally means “someone with...
Where Language and Embodiment Come Together
Philip was asked a question in our TEPP membership group about the intersection of embodiment and language. This is his response. We thought you'd enjoy it!
Leave a comment